


More Than Human

by Kryptaria, stephrc79



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Consent, M/M, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Sexual Violence, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 72,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptaria/pseuds/Kryptaria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephrc79/pseuds/stephrc79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the beginning of the twentieth century, the world shuddered on the brink of armageddon. As nation after nation fell into war, supernaturals came out of hiding, risking their immortal lives to fight beside the humans and win acceptance in the world.</p><p>Now, a hundred years later, vampires are at the cutting edge of technology. Werewolves are prized as soldiers, police, and security. And humans have slowly grown accustomed to working beside both.</p><p>At MI6, all three species work together under an uneasy truce, fighting for Queen and country. But after Silva attacks MI6, a vampire unlike any of his kind takes over Q Branch and proves to be an irresistible mystery to two of the deadliest werewolves the world has ever seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nonsenseflora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsenseflora/gifts).



> For Nonsenseflora, who won an AO3 fundraiser auction, and gave the prompt BAMF!Q. Thanks for being so patient!
> 
> Special thanks to rayvanfox for a fantastic beta review, and Jennybel75 for coming in for the final pass. We couldn't have done it without you!
> 
> ~~~~

**Friday, 29 March 2013**

“I hate coming down here,” Alec muttered under his breath as he and James stepped out of the underground lift. Three-quarters of the techs in Q Branch were undead, and while the air here didn’t reek like the infested cemeteries did, the techs all made his hackles rise. “I don’t bloody care what Mallory says —”

“They’re not going to attack us,” James said just as softly.

“Lying shit. They _want_ to — that’s what counts.”

James shot Alec a grin as he put a hand on the door that led to the main workcentre. “True. And if they do...”

Alec nodded, hearing the unspoken words. MI6 regs about interspecies fighting only went so far, after all. They were all _supposedly_ civilised beings here, but accidents happened.

MI6 had been four months without an incident, and that had been provoked by Silva’s attack. Even Alec could understand damaged, crazed, starving vampires gorging on whoever was at hand, and they’d all controlled themselves enough that no one died, though 0014 had been in hospital for two weeks after she’d been trapped in Boothroyd’s old lab.

None of that made him feel any better about walking through the glass doors and into the workcentre.

Usually, the Double O’s and Q Branch’s techs met on neutral ground upstairs or offsite, where no one would feel cornered or outnumbered. But it was late on a Friday afternoon, and most of the techs should’ve been packing to go home for the weekend. Alec and James had the brilliant plan of going down to drop off what little kit was left over from their joint mission to Sydney, rather than wasting two hours to book a meeting room and get one of the techs to come aboveground. Pop below, drop off their gear, then head out for a Friday night on the town. Simple plan.

Now, though, Alec wondered if someone had started a bloody war or something and not bothered to notify the Double O’s. Q Branch was _packed_. There had to be forty techs on duty at the moment, which meant something like thirty vampires. Thirty supposedly domesticated, supposedly in-control-of-themselves vampires, and every one of them would happily feast on a werewolf’s blood, given half the chance.

He had to fight back the urge to growl and snap at the vampires who looked up from their computers to watch him and James pass. The same tension radiated off James like static electricity, feeding Alec’s urge to fight, until he wondered if this had been a bloody stupid idea after all.

“Oh, fucking hell,” James said with a sigh. “End-of-month reports.”

“Bugger.” Alec slowed and glanced back at the glass doors, wondering if it would be seen as a retreat if he and James turned around and left. End-of-month reports meant _everyone_ had paperwork to do... and Alec honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d done any paperwork at all. “We’ve got, what... three, four months of backlog?”

“Before Silva,” James muttered, clearly also thinking in terms of a strategic withdrawal from the battlefield. “Right, new plan. First tech we spot —”

“Someone new,” Alec interrupted, looking around for anyone he didn’t recognise. There’d been a flurry of new hires after Silva, with people quitting out of cowardice or getting sacked when they couldn’t pass more stringent security requirements. Someone new wouldn’t think to challenge MI6’s two senior Double O’s on the matter of paperwork.

“Please understand that the equipment we issue takes months — sometimes years — to develop,” came a quiet voice, even and smooth, from down a nearby hallway.

Alec turned and saw a young man — surely too young to be anyone senior, despite his commanding tone. He was facing off against one of the human field agents — Sanders, Alec thought, though he tended to not pay attention to the humans. The young tech, though... He was definitely worth a second look. James’ height, dark hair that made Alec’s fingers itch to touch, a slender and graceful body concealed under the sort of cutting-edge fashion that a vampire would wear to the office. He didn’t smell dead, though, so maybe he was a human trying to fit in — and a _human_ tech was just what Alec and James needed.

“And while I’m perfectly aware that the mission must always come first, I’m also aware that _your_ mission was nothing more than surveillance and a small bit of information gathering.” The young tech stopped and turned to face the agent, his neutral mask slipping to reveal something more predatory underneath — something _not_ human. “So if you _ever_ return my equipment in this state again, you’ll be lucky if I leave you with a _pint_ of blood left in that useless system of yours.”

 _What the fuck?_ Alec shot a look at James, who was staring back at the young man without a hint of surprise. Wondering if something had gone wrong on his last mission — some slow-acting toxin that had dulled Alec's senses but left James' sharp — he turned back to stare at the young man and inhaled deep and slow, tasting the air.

He still didn’t reek like a dead thing. At this distance, he didn’t smell of anything at all, in fact, other than dryer sheets and soap.

 _What the fuck?_ Alec thought again, and still came up with no useful answers.

As Sanders fled, James said, “Q. Just the person we wanted to see.”

Q. As in, _the_ Q. The Quartermaster. The bloody fucking Quartermaster who was apparently some sort of... young not-quite-vampire... _something_.

Alec was going to kill James. Thoroughly and painfully. James had met the bloody Quartermaster _months ago_ and hadn’t said one fucking word to warn Alec.

Q glanced over and eyed them both. “Good evening, 007.”

He walked towards them, and the air around him seemed to crackle with sharp ozone, like the stillness before a thunderstorm. Alec’s senses came alive, tasting power and lightning and the sweet, raw bite of wind and snow. With every step Q took, Alec’s pulse picked up until his heart was pounding against his ribs.

Calmly, Q looked from James to Alec, and he gave an entirely professional nod. “You must be 006. Back from your mission, I see. What have you both got for me?”

Entirely unaffected by the Quartermaster, James tugged at the messenger bag that Alec was carrying. Alec snapped out of his daze and let James slide the strap free. “Just returning our kit,” James said smoothly, extending the bag to Q at arm’s length.

 _What the fuck?_ Alec thought for a third time. All he wanted to do was pin the Quartermaster against the wall in some dark corner and let his senses run wild, and James was acting as if Q were some normal, boring human? One of them must have been drugged on-mission.

Q reached out to take the bag. He flipped open the top and let out a derisive huff at the lack of contents inside. As he searched the pockets, he said, “You know, Bond, I don’t remember sending you out with this bag, but I do remember sending you with two guns, a radio, and a prototype cloud-based flash drive.” He looked challengingly at James. “Is there a reason you felt the need to return _only_ the radio and a bag I don’t want?”

“Consumables,” James tried with a grin that would seem sheepish only to someone who didn’t know him. “We _did_ get you the files you wanted.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.” Q narrowed his eyes. “But just because the files transferred properly to our servers, it doesn’t mean you get to leave the drive behind. I know this may come as a bit of a shock to you, but the tech we give you actually has the capability of being reused.”

Alec shifted his weight before he caught himself, realising he had started to close the distance to the Quartermaster. He forced himself back instead and leaned casually against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s impossible to anticipate all contingencies that come up in the field,” James said, dropping his attempts at being charming. “Our priority was mission first, survival second, everything else third.”

“I don’t even know why you two _need_ sodding guns.” Q waved a hand vaguely in their direction. “You always manage to come back in one piece. My tech never does.” He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t exhaustion — vampires didn’t get tired like that. Rather, Alec suspected it was exasperation at having more of his gear destroyed or lost in the field.

“I appreciate you getting me the data. You missed nothing there, I must say. It’s rare someone gets me _all_ the information I need, not just what they think is useful.” Q lifted the bag onto his shoulder. “Was there anything else you needed?”

Alec could think of a list — a very, _very_ long list — though he kept his mouth shut for once.

After a heartbeat, James’ grin flashed to life once more, and he said, “Nothing. Have a lovely weekend, Q.”

Q opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it. He smiled and nodded at them both again before turning to head back towards the workcentre. Even his walk was hypnotic, balanced somewhere between a predator’s light-footed stalk and an enticing strut. He should have been uncoordinated and clumsy, gangly and long-limbed as he was, but he moved like a damned dancer.

A hand clenched Alec’s arm, and he reacted thoughtlessly, letting out a snarl that drowned out the sound of clicking keyboards and the drone of chatting techs. He turned, shoved, and nearly went for James’ throat before he stopped himself at the last instant.

“Easy,” James said calmly, though Alec could feel the battle-readiness crackling through them both.

An uncomfortable, unfamiliar sense of guilt welled up inside Alec. He let go and backed away, refusing to try and see where the Quartermaster had gone. “Sorry,” he muttered, realising only then that he hadn’t spoken a single word since seeing the Quartermaster.

“Out,” James said, starting towards the door.

 _Out_. That was the best fucking plan Alec had heard all bloody day. He started to follow, only to be brought up short by a voice at his back.

“Is there a problem, 006?” Q asked quietly. He sounded close. Too close. Alec turned to find Q standing directly behind him. He met Alec’s eyes before slowly gazing down the length of Alec’s body.

Either the young new Quartermaster was suicidally insane or fearlessly confident. No one _ever_ challenged a post-mission Double O, werewolf or not. Dangerously intrigued, Alec returned the look, wondering about the best way to get Q alone somewhere. Setting Q Branch on fire seemed like a brilliant plan.

Then James pushed between them, giving Alec a hard shove away, blocking his view of the Quartermaster. “Sorry, Q. You know how it is, after a mission,” James said, his voice nearly a growl. “We’ll leave you to your...” He waved a hand at the staring crowd of techs who weren’t even pretending to work anymore.

Q flicked a quick glance in the direction of the rest of the branch before leveling his gaze at James. “Oh, I’m well aware of what you’re like post-mission,” he all but purred at them. “Thank you for returning at least _some_ of the equipment. I’ll analyse the data you sent over, and if there’s anything else I need” — he smiled avariciously — “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Torn between snapping at James and going after Q, Alec did nothing at all. He let Q leave and let James herd him out of the department, back into the lift.

As the doors slid closed, Alec’s mind finally cleared. “Fucking _hell_ ,” he muttered as his possessiveness and lust finally drained away. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, feeling the vibration as the lift finally started to ascend.

“That’s our Quartermaster,” James growled possessively.

Alec straightened and met James’ glare with one of his own. “ _Your_ Quartermaster, you mean?” he demanded, letting anger bury his sudden sense of being pushed aside for someone else. For seventy years, it had been James and Alec against anything the world threw at them. No one came between them — apparently until now.

James took a step back, startled. He frowned, shaking his head as though coming out of a daze. “No. I — _Fuck_ ,” he muttered, running a hand through his short-cropped hair.

So it had been instinctive. Unconscious rather than deliberate. Just like Alec’s own reaction.

“Yeah,” Alec said more gently. “What the _fuck_ is it about him?”

James shook his head. “No idea. _Nothing_ , as far as I can tell. He’s not old, not... _significant_.”

“Are you sure about that?”

James’ hesitation was answer enough. There _was_ something about Q. Now they just had to find out what.

Sighing, James leaned against the wall by the doors, twisting to watch the numbers count up. Q Branch was buried far deeper underground than either werewolf liked; it took too long to get back up, even to the underground garage.

“He’s not a threat,” James finally said.

“He’s a bloody _vampire_.”

James grimaced. “He’s loyal. He proved that.”

“Still a vampire.”

Huffing in frustration, James turned back to meet Alec’s gaze. “You didn’t seem to care about that two minutes ago.”

Alec shrugged. “No — but neither did you.”

“Fuck.”

Alec nodded with grim amusement. “There’s an idea.”

James raised a brow. This time, he was the one who said, “A _vampire_?”

Alec shrugged. The very thought of _most_ vampires made his skin crawl, but Q wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t some dead thing lying in wait in a mouldering tomb or scrabbling in alleys for rats. And he didn’t feel old, his predatory edge blunted by decades or centuries of association with humans and playing with technology — nor was he young and clumsy with his power. He wasn’t even a so-called country vampire, hiding away in luxury with human servants willing to let him feed on them whenever he chose. He was... _something else_.

“When was the last time we had something new to try?”

“A vampire,” James repeated, this time as if trying on the idea for size.

“Oh, don’t fucking give me that. You were thinking it from the day you met the bastard.”

James grinned. “Fair enough.”

 

~~~

 

Q shut the door to his office and leaned back against it. He closed his eyes and smiled, letting the last few minutes roll off of him. He had hoped that when Bond returned from the Sydney mission, he would bring Trevelyan with him to return the equipment — if they’d had any equipment to return at all. Which, if he were being honest with himself, he was rather surprised that they did.

The moment Q had laid eyes on Bond, back at the National Gallery, he’d been interested. Fascinated, even. Q had had werewolves before, but he’d never met one like Bond. Sitting on the bench, their sleeves brushing, the air between them had carried an electric charge that shocked them both the moment they’d clasped hands.

They’d never spoken about it — not then and not afterwards. Silva’s attack on MI6 had consumed them for weeks. And then, everything had gone back to normal, with the werewolves in the field division avoiding the vampires in TSS.

But Q had waited. He’d known that Bond would come find him, and that wait had paid off. Trevelyan was equally intriguing, equally appealing, and Q... Q wasn’t the type to choose. He’d wanted Bond from that very first day, and now he wanted them both. The _why_ he could figure out later, once they were his. There was _something_ about both wolves that Q had never felt, something he wanted to claim for his own.

They’d each made their opening moves — Q at the National Gallery, when he’d started this game, and now the wolves coming down into Q’s territory. A thrill of anticipation ran through Q as he wondered what he should do next. It was his turn, after all.

Find them, he decided as he pushed away from the door. He’d find them away from MI6, away from the blandly neutral territory of the National Gallery. He’d discover where they went during their off hours and consider how he would make his move, if the moment was right.

He had his office shut down and locked up in moments. He’d go home, drop off his secure laptop, and use his resources to track down his two werewolves.

Without a word to his staff, Q stepped into the lift and took it up to the parking garage. A half dozen storeys later, he exited and reached into his bag to retrieve his keys, only to freeze. Someone else was there in the garage, and _not_ someone simply walking to their car. He could sense a quiet presence off to his left, directly in the path he would take to his car.

He didn’t hesitate; he lowered his bag to the concrete before he spun around, his fangs dropping down without conscious thought. He took on a defensive stance and growled, “Who’s there?”

“Should we be offended that he doesn’t recognise us? I’m offended.”

For a moment, Q couldn’t place the voice. Then, as he heard a more familiar laugh — _Bond_ — he realised it had to be Trevelyan. Down in Q Branch, the man had said one single word, when he’d muttered a quiet apology to Bond. Apparently he’d found his voice — a nice, deep voice, full of interest and sly humour.

“We’re assassins,” Bond pointed out, still laughing. “We’re _supposed_ to be good at hiding.”

“I wasn’t _hiding_ ,” Trevelyan countered. “Lurking, maybe, but not hiding.”

Q took a steadying breath and straightened up. He grabbed his bag off the ground and cautiously started walking slowly towards the pair, still buried in the shadows of the garage. “I’m going to have to go with Trevelyan on this one,” he said as he pulled his fangs back in. Even if he couldn’t see them clearly, he didn’t sense danger from either agent. “I’ve monitored your missions, remember? Even when you _are_ hiding, you still come off as lurking. Which begs the question. Why are you lurking?”

“Consider it a professional form of waiting,” Bond answered.

“Less bloody boring, you mean,” Trevelyan countered.

Bond laughed. “We can lurk on the clock. It’s a critical job skill. Wouldn’t you agree, Q?” The name came out as a low purr.

Q stopped and grinned. “If that were true, then I’m surprised you don’t write off half of your bar fights as combat training.”

“Fucking brilliant plan,” Trevelyan approved, glancing at Bond.

“And we can blame him for it,” Bond added with a grin of his own.

“If it teaches you lot how to be more creative about holding onto your weapons, I’ll sign off on it personally,” Q offered with a laugh. He strained to see the agents, but even with his heightened senses, he could barely make out their forms. It was the one thing that grated on him about his vampiric self. He’d been almost completely blind when human, so while his eyesight had improved dramatically when he’d been turned, he still needed to wear glasses for distance.

“As if we’d bring weapons to a bar brawl,” Bond scoffed. “You don’t know us very well, do you?”

“He won’t get the chance, all the way over there. Come a little closer, Quartermaster,” Trevelyan invited. “Or are you waiting for the right moment to turn and run off?”

“That would imply I’m frightened of you, Trevelyan,” Q answered evenly. “And I can assure you, I’m not.”

He stepped forward until he was just out of arm’s length from the agents and stopped. They’d chosen their ‘lurking’ spot well — a pool of deep shadow that Q knew had been artificially created by the timely death of one or two overhead lights. They were very near his car — not right beside it, but directly in the path he had to take to get to it. Had they been planning this or was this, like so many other things the Double O’s seemed to do, simply an impulse?

Downstairs, they’d both been on edge. Trevelyan’s tension had been obvious to the point where Q had debated sending his techs away to minimise the chance of triggering a violent reaction in the deadly, overtrained werewolf — a reaction that would have surely pulled Bond into the chaos, even if he’d been more in control of himself.

Now, they were both relaxed, shoulders down, weight no longer balanced on their toes. Bond had his suit jacket pushed back so he could put his hands in his pockets. Trevelyan’s arms were crossed, but not defensively; he was leaning casually against a heavy cement support post, wearing a cocky, lopsided little smile.

The last of Q’s reticence drained away. He didn’t know Trevelyan well, but he knew Bond. Regardless of the general hostility between vampires and werewolves, Bond had earned his trust during the Silva incident, and Q believed the feeling was mutual. Whatever their reasons were for being down here, it wasn’t to attack him.

To show his trust, Q set his bag down again and took the last couple of steps to crowd into Trevelyan’s space — just short of touching, close enough to feel the wolf’s heat. Q looked up into his face and gave the agent a cocky, half-smile. “See, 006? Not running.”

Trevelyan didn’t move except to tip his head down, watching with an intensity that Q felt like fire on his skin. This wasn’t just an MI6 agent; this was a Double O _and_ a werewolf, making him one of the deadliest creatures in the world. And right now, Q was delighted to have Trevelyan’s full attention focused solely on _him._

“What _are_ you?” Trevelyan asked softly, almost to himself.

“Exactly what you think I am,” Q replied, just as softly. He maintained eye contact, wary that Trevelyan might take it as a sign of aggression. He really wasn’t afraid of the agent, but even the most controlled werewolves could snap under this sort of intensity. And if Trevelyan did snap, there was no telling what Bond would do.

The thought should have made Q turn away but, insanely, all he really wanted to do was push further.

Bond laughed softly, though without any real humour, as far as Q could tell. “It’s my fault entirely for not introducing you two before.”

Q felt a delicious shiver go down his spine at the jealous edge in Bond’s voice. “I was beginning to wonder where you might be keeping him,” Q mused, never taking his eyes off Trevelyan. “I’m so glad to see he’s finally come out to play.”

“You’re the one who stayed hiding underground,” Bond said just a bit too brusquely.

Trevelyan looked up at that, and Q felt the tension coiled inside ease. He still didn’t know what to make of Trevelyan. The domesticated werewolves easily blended in with society, since they could keep themselves in check, even in wolf form. The feral ones, though... They were little more than vicious animals, regardless of their form. They tended to form packs and hierarchies, complete with violent conflicts over rank and territory.

According to their files, Bond wasn’t feral, and Trevelyan, who had been born feral, was reformed, but neither had gone so far as to become a ‘city’ wolf. There was still an edge to both of them — especially Trevelyan — that _should_ have had Q itching to fight. So why wasn’t he?

“He’s here _now_ ,” Trevelyan said, his voice absolutely neutral. But then, as one corner of his mouth quirked back up in a lopsided smile, he looked back down at Q. The rush of interest crackled to life between them again. “And he’s not running. Are you running, Quartermaster?” he all but purred, making Q wonder what answer he was hoping to hear.

“Only when I’m giving chase, 006,” Q replied with a devious smile. He could feel the seduction radiating off of Trevelyan, reminding Q of the last sunset of his short human life: slow and blazing, but brilliant to behold.

“We’re not very good at running,” Bond said, and somehow he’d got _right behind_ Q, while Trevelyan had distracted him.

“But could you imagine how _fun_ that could be?” Q asked breathlessly, reminding himself that Bond wasn’t a threat.

“You couldn’t catch us,” Bond said very softly, warm breath stirring Q’s hair.

With a cocky laugh, Trevelyan added, “But you’re welcome to try.”

Encouraged by their open interest, Q did the unthinkable, for a vampire: He stepped back, bringing his body flush with Bond’s. He knew he was risking his life by touching a werewolf without invitation, but he was confident that Bond wouldn’t respond with claws and fangs, no matter how strong his instinct.

The moment he made contact, he felt... _something_ , something more than heat and solid muscle and living flesh. Tingles crawled over his skin, subtle but enticing, like touching an electrostatic generator. Bond must have also felt it; he let out a sharp exhale that turned into a low, interested growl. It was, Q realised distantly, very much like the sparks that had flown when they’d shaken hands in the National Gallery, only this time it was everywhere, power crawling over every inch of his skin, sinking deep into him.

He’d never felt more alive.

Bond let out a low breath, a quiet growl buried under his exhale. Q had to concentrate to focus on Trevelyan, in front of him, watching them intently. Then Bond shifted his weight, leaning forward just enough to push back against Q, and the power swept over him again. God, what would this feel like without the barrier of clothing between them?

Then Trevelyan cut into Q’s thoughts, casually asking, “Dinner?”

Q glanced at Trevelyan, confused. He thought the wolf’s movement had meant their interaction was finally leading somewhere interesting. He hadn’t thought that it meant going out for a meal. After all, he wasn’t looking for a _date_. “I’m sorry, but are you —”

“Dinner,” Bond said just as casually, cutting Q off. He stepped back, leaving a chill to take the place of his warm presence at Q’s back. “I’m starved.”

Trevelyan grinned at Q, polite and friendly, if a bit toothy. “Have a pleasant night, Quartermaster.”

“I... Goodnight, Trevelyan.” Q came up short, completely caught off guard that they hadn’t meant dinner with _him._ He shook his head and stepped to the side as quickly as possible. He was completely at a loss as to what he’d missed in that interaction, but he wasn’t stupid enough to press the issue. He looked up at Bond and said, “Goodnight, 007.”

“Q,” Bond purred just as he had that first day they’d met, in the National Gallery.

Then the two werewolves left, silently walking side-by-side into the dark parking garage. Q’s sharp senses picked up the faint jangle of keys, followed by the echoing beep of a car alarm.

Q stood for a moment and watched them go. After finding them down here, he’d expected the advances, but not the retreat. There was no way he was going to let them get away that easily, though. After Trevelyan and Bond had shown up in the tunnels, he’d wanted to find them. Just because they’d found him first meant nothing. It was still his turn to hunt them down.

 

~~~

 

“When are you going to replace your bloody car?” Alec asked as he went around to the driver’s seat of his Range Rover. “I’m sick of being your damned chauffeur.”

“You can let me drive,” James pointed out as he climbed into the passenger’s seat. The heavy SUV had gone through Boothroyd’s old lab just last year, and Boothroyd hadn’t held back in his upgrades. James saw no reason to find a replacement for his old, beloved Aston-Martin when there was a perfectly good, if modern, substitute at hand. It wasn’t as if he and Alec went out separately very often.

“Bugger off.” Alec got in and slammed his door, looking up in the rearview mirror before he even turned on the engine. Very softly, he asked, “Think he’ll follow us?”

James considered what little he knew of their Quartermaster. He looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties, but that meant nothing when dealing with a vampire. A bit of digging in MI6’s computers verified that he’d passed his security clearance checks — obvious, really, but James had to start _somewhere_ — but that was all. With their quick wits and love of technology, vampires had been at the forefront of computer system design for decades. The only records vampires allowed of their kind were the ones they themselves kept. Even James couldn’t break those systems, and the vampire sysadmins weren’t likely to respond to a werewolf’s information release request.

Q was cocky, yes, but he was also clever and patient. Months ago, after their first meeting at the National Gallery, James had expected Q would come find him. When he hadn’t, James had eventually assumed that he’d misread Q’s interest. Judging by today, though, apparently James had been wrong. Q had simply out-waited him.

“He won’t follow,” he finally said.

“Damn.”

James shot Alec a grin. “But he might try to _hunt_ us.”

Alec grinned back. “I can’t wait.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Friday, 29 March 2013**

Nowhere did the line between civilised and feral show more plainly than fashion. Werewolf packs roaming the wilds wore tatters and rags, if anything at all. The werewolves who chose city life tended to match human fashions, though with significantly more elegance than any human could muster. In part, it was a denial of their wild cousins, but mostly it was common sense. A good predator knew how to fit in and become invisible.

Besides, nothing fucked with the vampires like seeing a werewolf in Savile Row’s finest.

Outside of missions, Q had only ever seen James in his suits. He probably didn’t think James owned anything more casual — and probably assumed the same for Alec. Everyone at MI6 _expected_ its two senior agents to dress better than the entire executive team combined.

“What the _fuck_ , James?” Alec walked through the wardrobe doorway, holding the T-shirt and jeans that James had laid out for him.

James zipped up his own jeans and started rifling through the T-shirt drawer. “Something wrong?”

“I _thought_ we were reverse-stalking the Quartermaster,” Alec complained. He unfolded the jeans, showing rips that had faded to soft white-edged gashes along the right leg. “We’re not going hunting, are we? No. _I’m_ not going hunting. I’ll stay in and order a bloody pizza, if that’s how you’re going to be.”

James sighed, chose a T-shirt at random, and herded Alec out of the wardrobe. “Everyone at MI6 _knows_ what we look like in decent clothes.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to dress like bloody _dogs_ for contrast. If we’re dressing down, I’m wearing my fucking fur.”

“You can’t.” James grinned wickedly, knowing Alec was complaining just to be contrary. As a born-wolf, Alec hated clothing, whether it was suits or T-shirts, but he’d got used to maintaining a certain level of shabby-wolf fashion — dress shirts and trousers, though he’d usually forego ties and jackets. “We need to dress to fit in.”

Alec stared at him. “No.”

“Yes.”

“We are _not_ —”

“We _are_ —”

“A bloody _vampire_ club? Do you have any fucking _idea_...” He trailed off, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

James laughed wickedly. “Any idea how stupid that is?” he suggested.

“If Mallory ever found out, he’d fire us.” Alec slowly grinned. “We haven’t been unemployed in ages. Could be fun.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

 

~~~

 

Q propped his feet up on his desk as he surveyed the CCTV feed on one of his three monitors. As he took a sip of blood from his mug, he watched Bond exit the gate first, followed by Trevelyan.

Then he sat forward, nearly spilling the mug. What the _hell_ were they wearing? T-shirts, tight jeans... They were dressed for a mission, not for going out in public in London. That didn’t stop him from appreciating the view, though.

Bond’s T-shirt was tight enough that Q could see a ripple of muscle every time he breathed, even through the grainy image. Trevelyan’s jeans practically looked painted on. And Q wasn’t the only one to notice, judging by the way Bond dropped back to watch Trevelyan walk for a few steps. When Trevelyan realised he was alone, he turned, and though he was at the wrong angle for Q to see his face, it was easy enough to imagine his laugh. Bond, in clear view of the camera, grinned and caught up, and the two left the frame, heading for the nearest Tube station.

Q switched over to the station’s feed just as Bond and Trevelyan stepped through the turnstile and headed down the escalator. Each time they passed a camera, Q switched his feed to keep tabs on them. He knew they were going out for the night, but until it was clear where they were going, he wasn’t going to leave to hunt them down.

As they stepped onto the first train that came, Q pulled up the feed of each subsequent station and set his facial recognition software to alert him whenever the two got off. Then he turned his attention back to the new _Call of Duty_ , occasionally glancing at the screen that was tracking the werewolves’ progress.

It wasn’t until they’d passed a good half dozen stations that Q put it together: their attractively casual clothes, their choice to take public transport rather than driving, the direction they were heading... He sat up abruptly, almost spilling his mug.

They were going to Hydra Code. A nightclub run by vampires.

Q frowned in irritation. There were only two reasons for werewolves to go to Hydra Code: they were looking for a fight or for sex, something wolves almost _never_ did with a vampire. While vampires were drawn to wolves, the same wasn’t true in reverse. The wolves tended to think of vampires as _actual_ dead things. For a werewolf, sex with a vampire was one of the kinkiest things out there.

And if they were looking for sex, why not him? They’d made their interest in him known earlier. Why head somewhere else?

Q downed the rest of his blood and stood up to go change. If they wanted a vampire, there was no way he was going to let them get away that easily.

Vampires existed on the cutting edge of technology and fashion. MI6 called for a quietly conservative look, but Hydra Code was on the other side of the spectrum altogether. Black leather pants, black combat boots, and a black metallic waistcoat — no shirt — would do well enough. He used gel to spike his hair like flames, but skipped the red chalk that would make it look like actual flame.

There was no time to waste. If it _was_ sex they were after, he wasn’t going to give them the chance to find it elsewhere.

 

~~~

 

James and Alec had visited Hydra Code once, shortly after it had opened, as a matter of course — check out the new predators in town and let the vampires know they were being watched. That sort of thing was to be expected, but there wasn’t really any real danger of it escalating to violence; the supernaturals of Great Britain had been operating under a general truce since the First World War.

They hadn’t gone back, though, and James had made the mistake of forgetting just how _alien_ it felt. The loud, pounding music grated on his ears even from a half block away, and he suppressed the urge to bare his teeth.

 _Focus on the prey_ , he told himself. He’d been patient, playing the sort of long, slow game that humans could never understand, and that patience had paid off. Q’s interest had been piqued by James’ long absence. Bringing Alec into the game had just been a bonus — apparently for everyone, judging by the obvious attraction between Alec and Q.

Alec’s steps slowed as they came in sight of the queue: humans huddling under umbrellas, wearing too-short leather coats over clothing chosen for fashion rather than warmth. “Did you bring breath mints?” he asked curiously.

James looked away from the queue, wondering what the hell Alec’s game was. “No. Why?”

“For after we gut any vampires we find in there. Dead things taste like shit.”

“Remind me again why I bring you out in public.”

“Because you’d be bored without me. I make everything more fun.”

James stopped. “Maybe this was a bad idea after all.”

“We’re werewolves going to a bloody vampire bar. It was a fucking _brilliant_ bad idea.” Alec’s grin flashed. “But all right, if you insist on being boring... I’ll let you choose. If the place is infested, we’re leaving or starting a bloody brawl.”

James huffed out a laugh that was more like a snarl. “We made it out of Q Branch all right today.”

Alec shrugged. “So we’re owed a brawl. We _behaved_ today,” he said, and shot James a falsely innocent smile, knowing that he wouldn’t argue the point.

They bypassed the queue and went straight up to the bouncer. He wasn’t a vampire but was apparently aware that something was _off_ about the two werewolves. The human stared at them, fumbling with one hand to pull the door open.

“No cover?” Alec asked with a dangerous grin.

“Play nice,” James murmured as he gave Alec a push towards the door.

Alec snorted. “Why?”

James didn’t bother trying to answer. He just followed Alec inside, senses coming alive. There were at least a half-dozen of the dead here — not too bad, for a Friday night, though it was still early. He flexed his hands, reminding himself to keep his claws in, and looked around.

The club’s decor was dark, but in a glossy, glittering way, all black edged in chrome and bright halogen spotlights that made the shadows that much deeper by comparison. Overhead, metal catwalks crossed the space between two dance floors and a central bar that was already packed. One of the vampires was there, not working the bar but sitting at one end with the air of a bloody royal holding court, and James itched to take him down just because he could.

This time, Alec was the calmer one. He put a hand on James’ shoulder and said, “That’s not the one we want.”

James pushed down his instincts and looked steadily at the vampire, who was staring in their direction. White-blond hair, piercing blue eyes much like James’, dressed in tight clothes designed to show off a lean build. He was pretty — of course he was pretty, since that seemed to be the primary criterion vampires had for choosing which humans to turn and which to ignore. Like Q, he had that deceptively fragile air that so many vampires did, as if they could fool humans into thinking they were harmless.

‘Pretty’ was appealing. James had no interest in an unknown vampire — in _any_ vampire, actually, other than the damned Quartermaster — but the vampire’s obvious interest could be useful, if they needed to provoke Q a bit more.

He refrained from sneering and let Alec lead him to the other side of the bar, out of sight of the vampire. James turned to lean back against the bar, keeping an eye on the crowd while Alec ordered them drinks. There were other vampires out there, reeking of death and decay, at least to werewolf senses. Q was too subtle for James to sense him in this sort of crowd, at least until he got close.

Maybe that was part of Q’s appeal. James had never heard of a truly subtle vampire before.

The pretty blond at the bar certainly wasn’t subtle. James and Alec had barely taken their drinks to the edge of one of the dance floors before they both felt the vampire approach. They turned in unison, and the vampire slowed but didn’t stop. Deliberately, he looked them over — first James, then Alec — and grinned as if to show that he liked what he saw.

The vampire came to a stop right at arm’s length, just as Q had done earlier in the garage. He leered at the two of them before saying, “Well, aren’t you quite the pretty pair. What brings you boys in here tonight?”

James’ hackles went up at the too-smooth, too-false voice. He could feel Alec snap to full alert, which made him growl inside in response. He had fought beside Alec too many times; he knew just how they’d both strike, how they’d cover each other, how they’d take down the dead thing before them.

Alec bared his teeth. “Thought we’d see how the other half doesn’t live.”

“Oh, baby doll, we live,” he said with a smirk that was equal parts playful and snide. “More than you do, I think.”

James made a point of looking around at the crowd before he shifted a little closer to Alec, so the sleeves of their leather jackets just brushed. “And yet, you’re the one who’s alone,” he pointed out.

The vampire laughed. “That’s because I like to travel light.” His eyes flicked to James’ chest as he said, “But I’d be willing to make an exception.”

“Maybe _you_ would,” Alec said, eyeing the vampire. “What’s in it for us?”

“Oh, I see.” The vampire’s smile turned patronising as he took a step closer. “You two have never _been_ with a vampire, have you?”

“Is that what you’re offering?” James asked more sharply, trying and failing to keep a flirtatious tone of voice. They were a pair of werewolves in a damned vampire bar; either they were here to pick a fight or because they were a pair of kinky bastards — or both, he privately admitted to himself. But while they were here for a vampire, it wasn’t _this_ vampire.

“I could be convinced,” the vampire said, giving them each another long, slow, assessing look. “Which of you had the idea to come here tonight? Or do you do _everything_ together?”

“We’re inseparable,” Alec said lightly.

The vampire grinned at that. “Why don’t I buy you both a drink and let’s see if we can’t figure out what you’re looking for.”

Alec grinned. “What makes you think you’re it?”

The vampire stepped closer, lifting one hand to brush his fingertips over Alec’s sleeve. “Because you won’t find better. Not many of us care enough to learn what your kind enjoy.”

 

~~~

 

Q didn’t bother with the queue; he walked right in, past the bouncer who recognised him from back when he’d set up network security here. He had blanket pass to the place, though he rarely used it — he loathed human groupies — but he still came just enough to make sure the human employees knew his face.

When he scanned the dance floors, he immediately spotted Bond and Trevelyan off to the right. And they weren’t alone. Another vampire was standing in front of them, chatting them up. Even with the music blaring across the club, Q could perfectly make out their conversation. And there was no denying the fucking corpse was hitting on them.

Q walked slowly around the bar and watched. Neither Bond nor Trevelyan appeared overly interested, but they hadn’t brushed the vampire off entirely, either. The vampire was old — older than Q. That made the other vampire stronger, but that didn’t make him less of an idiot. He was so blindly arrogant, he couldn’t see the tension rolling off of both of the Double O’s backs. One wrong move, and he would easily lose a limb.

As Q circled back behind Bond and Trevelyan, he watched the vampire run his fingers along Trevelyan’s arm. For half a second, Q froze. He felt his fangs digging into his lip as his baser possessive instincts took over. He couldn’t think straight — couldn’t _see_ straight. Everything had narrowed down to the other vampire and Q’s overwhelming desire to rip him apart.

Q moved swiftly in behind Trevelyan and Bond, covering the distance in half a heartbeat. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” he breathed out, low and even.

The vampire looked up, surprise evident at Q’s sudden appearance. “Excuse me?”

“Touch him again, and you will lose that fucking arm.” Q stepped out in front of Trevelyan to stand halfway between him and the vampire.

The vampire’s eyes narrowed. “And what makes you think you’re any match for me, _child_?”

“I never said I was a match for you.” He slid further over until he was standing completely between both agents and the vampire. “But these wolves were mine _long_ before you got here.” He could feel Bond and Trevelyan staring at him, but he never once looked away from the other vampire. “You may be older, but I’m not the only one in this fight. They will defend me before they’ll defend you.”

“You can’t honestly believe that!” The vampire scoffed, but didn’t move. “They’re _werewolves_. They protect no one but themselves.”

“They protect _me_ ,” Q shot back, low and menacing. Confident that the wolves would never allow him to come to harm, he addressed them without turning. “Gentlemen? I think I’m done being nice. Please do something about him.”

As Bond stepped around Q, he took his hands out of his jacket pockets. When he raised one hand, Q saw dark claws at his fingertips.

A soft _thump_ made him look to the other side, where Trevelyan was taking things even further. He’d dropped his jacket and, as Q watched, pulled off his too-tight T-shirt. Any other time, Q would have been delighted by the view. Now, though, he realised Trevelyan was clearly stating his intent to shift fully.

The other vampire held up his hands, looking from Bond’s claws to Trevelyan’s bare chest with apprehension. “Next time, don’t let them off their leads. What was I supposed to think, seeing them running loose?”

“Leads?” Trevelyan asked, the word almost lost under his deep growl.

“Trevelyan,” Q warned. He wanted the other vampire dealt with; he didn’t want Trevelyan and Bond killed.

Not that it mattered. The other vampire backed away, disappearing into the crowd.

“Thank you,” Q murmured. The wolves had defended him. Whatever he’d interrupted, they’d chosen _him_ over the other vampire. That thought allowed him to pull his fangs back in.

Trevelyan turned his T-shirt right-side-out and pulled it back on. “James,” he said quietly as he ruffled his hair back out of his eyes and bent down to pick up his jacket. With a quiet growl, Bond clenched his fists and put his hands back in his jacket pockets.

Bond turned to face Q, shoulders finally relaxing from their tense line. “So this is what you do for fun on Friday nights,” he said, his voice sounding more human. “Start brawls.”

Q huffed out a small laugh. “And what were your plans with blondie back there? Tea and a good book?”

Bond turned to watch Trevelyan put his jacket back on and then reached out to brush at minuscule specks on the front. The intimacy between them was casual, and Q tried not to stare. Whatever their relationship, he’d find out soon enough.

Then Bond turned back to Q with a smirk and said, “I wasn’t aware that what we do off the clock is of such concern to you.”

Q put his hands in his own pockets to keep himself from touching Bond. “Everything you do is of concern to me.”

“Is it,” Bond murmured, lowering his gaze to take in Q’s outfit. He didn’t react openly, but Q could see the way his pupils widened fractionally. “Perhaps we should be similarly concerned. Who let you go out dressed like that?”

“You did, actually.” Q took a step closer to Bond. “It’s what you get for leaving me all alone in the parking garage like that,” he teased.

“Maybe you missed it, but you _weren’t_ dressed like that,” Trevelyan said, crowding close as if to stake out his own space beside them. He leaned in just as he inhaled, and Q knew he was subtly tasting the air — something most werewolves avoided doing anywhere near vampires. Instead of recoiling, though, Trevelyan just dropped his voice and said, “We would have noticed. We’re _very_ observant. Aren’t we?”

Bond didn’t answer beyond a quiet, affirmative hum. He also breathed in, just inches away from Q, and curled his fingers into a fist as if to hold himself back.

“Well, if you hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have had to go home and make myself presentable for a night out.” Q took a step closer and leaned in to whisper in both their ears. “If you hadn’t left me, I assume that by now I wouldn’t be wearing anything at all.”

“Fucking brilliant thought,” Trevelyan said, touching his fingertips to Q’s bare arm. The electric rush Q felt made his breath catch. He glanced down to stare at Trevelyan’s skin on his own. With a faint shudder, Trevelyan dragged down until he could slide his fingers around Q’s wrist. “We should catch up.”

“We really shouldn’t have got so far behind.” Q’s traitorous voice shook as he kept his eyes on Trevelyan’s hand. He slowly pulled his own hand out of his pocket to give Trevelyan better access to his arm.

“We’ll fix that,” Bond murmured, lifting his hand to brush his knuckles against Q’s other arm.

Rather than moving down to take Q’s hand, Trevelyan’s fingers tightened — not enough to hurt, but enough that Q would need to use unnatural strength to break free. “Where?” Trevelyan asked, looking over at Bond.

Q expected they’d want to go to his place or a hotel — werewolves were notoriously territorial to the point where they’d been known to throw out repairmen who took too long at their jobs. Almost all werewolves in London lived in private houses with high walls and locked gates; forcing a werewolf to live in a flat surrounded by others, human or supernatural, was a recipe for disaster.

When Bond didn’t answer right away, Q eyed the wolf surreptitiously. Was he trying to think of somewhere to go? The thought made Q cringe inwardly. There was zero chance of Q being invited back to their house; the wolves didn’t know him well enough for that, yet. No, Bond was probably trying to weigh security factors — Q was an MI6 executive, after all — against convenience. And for a werewolf, ‘convenience’ could well mean the nearest alley.

“You know, the closest supernatural-friendly hotel is The Savoy,” Q noted quietly. “Well, there’s actually a B&B that’s closer, but I don’t _do_ B &Bs.”

That made Bond’s smirk reappear. “The Savoy it is,” he agreed, looking over at Trevelyan.

It took a few seconds before Trevelyan let go of Q’s wrist, as though reluctant to lose that contact between them. “Did you drive?” he asked Q.

“You do remember that I’m a _vampire_ , right?” Q quirked an eyebrow at Trevelyan. “I rarely drive, unless it’s to work, for travel, or if I’m picking someone up who isn’t as fast as I am.”

“Cars are more than just transport, Q,” Bond scolded. “You just haven’t been properly introduced to how useful they are.”

“You got yours blown up,” Trevelyan reminded him.

Bond’s lip curled up in a brief snarl. “Still —”

“And you haven’t bought a new one, because you’re too bloody picky.”

Bond huffed in irritation. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping?”

“I _am_ helping. I’m always helpful. Aren’t I?” Trevelyan asked, turning his sly, lopsided grin on Q.

Q returned the smile and countered, “You burned down your last house.”

“But we got a _nicer_ one.”

“Right,” Bond interrupted. “Q, get us a room. We’ll meet you there.”

“You should know, I wait for no one.” Q glanced back and forth between the two. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, checked in in twenty. You have thirty.”

Without waiting for a response, Q turned around and headed out the club door.

 

~~~

 

James and Alec both paused outside Hydra Code, taking deep breaths of the wet spring air. As soon as Q had left, the carrion stench of the other vampires seemed to have filled James’ senses, and only now, out in the fresh air, could he pull his claws back in.

“Thirty minutes,” Alec said dryly, rolling his shoulders as he looked up at the sky. He didn’t even turn in the direction of The Savoy.

Amused, James barked out a laugh and gave Alec a shove to start him moving, though he kept to a casual walk. The MI6 Quartermaster was allowed to suggest — and _only_ suggest — deadlines to the Double O’s. But James wasn’t going to let Q, no matter how interesting or enticing, dictate the terms of anything they did. Not tonight or any other night.

“He said the other corpse was stronger,” Alec said as they reached the corner. They actually stopped to wait for the light, rather than just darting across as they normally would have done. “Think that means he’s young?”

“That could be why he smells so...”

Alec grinned. “Think we can get him to tell us?”

James grinned back. “Are we interrogating him?”

“There’s a thought. Think he likes handcuffs?”

“I didn’t bring any.” James glanced at Alec as the light changed and they started across the street. “Are we doing this more than once?”

Alec gave a tense shrug. “Hadn’t thought on it,” he answered guardedly. “Do you want to?”

James bit back his _yes_ , because it wouldn’t be entirely honest. Just the fact that he wanted to say yes was disturbing. Q was a damned _vampire_. Enticing, interesting, and _dead_. James wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to do more than just touch. Kissing — _tasting_ — dead skin... the thought was repulsive.

A prod in the arm brought James out of his dark thoughts. He looked at Alec, who quietly said, “This could all be a mistake. He could just want us for our blood.”

James winced. Trust Alec to get right to the heart of the matter. Q was their Quartermaster, but he was a vampire, and Alec and James both knew what that meant. In seventy years, James could count on one hand the number of times a vampire had got anywhere near his blood — and none of them had been with his permission. Bites in combat, bites in captivity. What if Q wanted James to _let_ him...?

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Alec stopped and put a hand on James’ arm. “Did this just turn into a mission?” he asked quietly. “Are we hunting him?”

James closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Together, they could take Q down, unless he was much older than he seemed. “No,” he finally said as he opened his eyes and started walking again. “I still want him. Do you?”

“Well, yes. That doesn’t mean it can’t be both,” Alec said with a quick, feral grin.

James laughed, feeling better about the night. He started walking again, thoughtfully saying, “If things go badly, we should probably try not to _actually_ kill him.”

“Mallory would be furious. Not that that’s incentive to behave.”

They kept walking, falling into an easier, more comfortable silence, though James couldn’t push aside his wariness. Q had been playing a game with him since their first meeting, and James still didn’t know all the rules.

In that case, it was time to change the rules.

They reached The Savoy with five minutes to spare. Instead of going to the front desk to find out Q’s room number, though, James touched Alec’s arm and nodded in the direction of the American Bar. When Alec shot him a questioning look, James asked, “Don’t you hate deadlines?”

“I’m not objecting. Isn’t there a dress code?”

“For humans, yes.”

So they went into the bar, where the staff were perceptive enough to pick up on the subtle hint of wolf-gold in their eyes, and they didn’t leave until they were almost fifteen minutes overdue. Q had booked a full suite under nothing more than ‘Q’, of course, and he’d given the front desk James and Alec’s usual cover identities — Richard and William Sterling.

Precisely forty-five minutes after Q had left Hydra Code, James swiped his keycard and pushed open the door to the suite. A deep breath brought Q’s lingering scent, but it was faint — too faint for Q to be in another room. Frowning, James went through the foyer into the sitting room, looking for any trace of Q.

“Is he here?” Alec asked uncertainly as he closed the door and engaged the security lock.

Moving more quickly now, James went into the bedroom. Untouched king-sized bed. Blackout curtains open to show the city’s lights glittering on the Thames. No hint that anyone had been here. The bathroom door was open, lights out, and James didn’t bother to check for Q hiding in the shower.

“No,” James answered in quiet disbelief. Then he started to laugh, realising Q had trumped their move. “Clever little bastard.”

“He left,” Alec said, stopping in the bedroom doorway. “He _actually left_.”

“Thirty minutes,” James said, looking around the bedroom. “I suppose he was serious.”

Alec nodded, eyeing the bed thoughtfully. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Don’t bother. He probably blocked the charge, and I really don’t feel like paying for a suite just so we can put on our fur and lounge around on the furniture.”

Alec huffed and turned to leave. “When did you get so bloody boring?”

“When my night’s entertainment went from being new and exciting and probably dangerous to _you_.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Wednesday, 17 April 2013**

Alec had no reason to go anywhere near Q Branch. For the last two and a half weeks, the closest he and James had got to a mission was deciding where to go for lunch. They’d spent that time working on a Threat Analysis Report — the result of intel gathered on their last mission — and lurking at the firing range when they got too bored to sit in front of computers. They’d finished the TAR in time for James to present their findings to Mallory and some bloody committee, which meant Alec was on his own. He wasn’t allowed anywhere near committees ever since some officious little twat had got too overzealous regarding a budget, and Alec had found a lighter in his pocket, and the whole meeting had gone to hell.

He had no reason to go anywhere near Q Branch, except that he hadn’t seen the Quartermaster for nineteen days. Not that he was counting. Not that he kept sniffing the corridors for a hint of Q’s scent, to the point where one of the admins had actually told him, “I didn’t know werewolves could get seasonal allergies.”

He felt like a damned addict wanting his next hit. _Needing_ it.

Bracing himself against the foul air, he pushed open the doors to the main workcentre and walked in. He reminded himself to play by the MI6 rules that required supernatural personnel to present a non-threatening demeanour and kept his claws in. Between the other vampires and the knowledge that Q — his target — was here somewhere, that level of self-control was a struggle.

The workcentre wasn’t quite as crowded as it had been on Alec’s last visit, which was a relief. He took shallow breaths, kept himself in check, and went right for Q’s office, set on a mezzanine overlooking the team desks. Aware of the empty space beside him — space meant for James — he took the steps two at a time and didn’t stop until he was at the office door.

He reached for the door handle, only to have it slip through his fingers as the door opened from the inside. “006.” Q stared back at Alec, clearly surprised to find him standing there. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Any other time, Alec would’ve had a smooth, confident answer for Q. Now, he took a step forward and let Q’s presence drive away any hint of the other vampires. “This isn’t a bad start,” he said quietly, bracing his hands on either side of the doorway. It took all his self-control not to lean down and brush his face against Q’s hair.

Q’s smile was assessing but playful. “And your answer is to body-block me into my office?” He took a step back from Alec, who pressed forward, refusing to let Q get even an inch farther away.

“Can’t a senior agent request a _private_ meeting, Quartermaster?” Alec managed to say as one foot cleared the threshold. He dropped his hands from the doorjamb, letting his knuckles lightly touch Q’s sleeve. He remembered all too clearly how Q’s skin had felt — cool and soft and full of energy that made his fur tingle and his blood race.

Q crossed his arms and cocked his head to one side, gazing at Alec. He didn’t respond right away, and Alec wondered what was going through Q’s mind — what his vampiric senses were telling him. Was he just as enthralled as Alec was, or was his interest in Alec and James only in their blood?

After a moment of taking Alec in, Q took a deep, slow breath and said, “You’re always allowed to request a private meeting with me. It’s just that the last time you did, you were — how shall I put this — _disinclined_ to follow through?”

Alec took another step; the door closed halfway, catching on his hip. “Should we be flattered you chose a suite?” he countered, shifting forward just enough that he could feel his open jacket press against Q’s crossed arms.

Q snorted. “Please. A suite is the bare minimum I would choose for a one-night stand. I have _standards_ , Trevelyan.” He shifted back and to the left, luring Alec farther into the office. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Alec huffed in amusement and gave in to temptation. He leaned in, breathing deeply, and closed his eyes for a moment. “You haven’t come to see us,” he said, more to fill the silence than because he actually wanted a conversation. In fact, there was no reason to waste time talking at all.

Q closed his eyes as well and stilled against Alec. His hands dropped to his sides, and Alec felt Q’s fingers twitch, but he didn’t step into Alec, not the way he had with Bond. “If we’re being honest, you were the ones who didn’t come to see me,” Q whispered.

A shiver went up Alec’s spine; Q’s stillness was utterly unbroken by all the little tics a human would have: the subtle rise and fall of breath, the pulse of blood under living flesh, the faint flutter of eyelashes. For a moment, Alec’s mind went blank, caught between repulsion and desire.

“You’re the one surrounded by “ — he hesitated before he could say anything about corpses — “ _others_.”

“Maybe now.” Q’s only movement was to open his eyes. “But I wasn’t then. Care to explain?” He locked eyes with Alec, his gaze completely unreadable. “I must say, I was awfully lonely that night.”

“We don’t do well with deadlines.” Hoping to provoke Q into moving — into being _less dead_ — Alec closed the last few inches between their bodies and pulled away from his gaze with effort. All he had to do was tip his head down, and he’d feel Q’s soft-looking, untamed hair against his skin, but he held off. _Soon_ , he promised himself.

Q tilted his chin up and breathed against Alec’s jaw. Alec tensed against the impulse to flinch, but it never came. Q’s exhale was soft and cool, like his skin, without a hint of stale blood or decay. “Of course you don’t,” he answered with a laugh. “You take the countdown timer on a _bomb_ as a mere suggestion.”

Alec looked down, meeting Q’s eyes. The air between their lips tasted sweet and still; Q breathed only when necessary. “Are you that much of a danger to me?” Alec asked quietly, wanting to kiss but also wanting to step back. The two conflicting impulses held him paralysed.

“I’m a danger to everyone, Trevelyan,” Q said and flicked his tongue out before biting his lower lip. “But you like that, don’t you? You wouldn’t do what you do if you weren’t constantly courting danger.”

Entranced, Alec laughed. He didn’t even know he’d moved until he felt soft fabric slide against his fingertips. At the first press of his hands on Q’s hips, he pulled back, though only one critical inch. Had Q been a living human, Alec would’ve felt his body heat. “And you?” he asked in a voice gone rough. “Or are you only after us for our blood?”

Q stared at Alec, unblinking. “Of course I’m after your blood,” he murmured as his green eyes turned dark. He slid his fingers lightly across Alec’s hand until they rested on Alec’s wrist. “I’m after _all of you_.” Mimicking Alec’s move from the night of the club, Q gripped his wrist tight enough to break, had Alec been anything other than supernatural.

Alec tensed, claws snapping out with little pinpricks of pain up his fingers, though he didn’t strike. Didn’t pull away. He told himself that Q was _safe_ , but James wasn’t there to intervene — either to help him take down Q or to stop him from doing something stupid.

He buried his free hand in Q’s hair, twisting soft strands around his fingers, and bent not to kiss but to rub his face against Q’s. Lightning shocks of sensation crawled over his skin. He could feel his own pulse pounding under Q’s cool, still fingers, but other than that stillness, there wasn’t a hint that Q was dead.

Q leaned forward, slotting one leg between Alec’s to bring their bodies flush. He lifted his free hand to wrap cool, strong fingers around Alec’s other wrist, though he made no effort to break Alec’s hold.

“What do you _want_ , Trevelyan?” he breathed against Alec’s ear.

The seductive tone of Q’s soft voice cut through the faint prickle of wariness at how Q was holding him — not that Alec was going to let himself be caught wrong-footed by a fucking corpse, no matter how enticing. Especially not without James as his backup.

“Nothing I can have here, in your bloody office.” He untangled his fingers with care, keeping his claws away from Q’s scalp. The Quartermaster was slender to the point of fragility, but he was also a vampire — one who was clever, determined, and absolutely fearless. Alec knew better than to treat him as anything less than a predator.

That reminder allowed Alec to step back. Q’s hold on Alec’s wrist eased, and Alec slipped free. He wanted to say something. No, he _wanted_ to push Q deeper into the office and up onto his desk, but even Alec wasn’t quite that foolish. Not here. Not now. Not without James.

He stepped back again, and this time, he found the sanctuary of the door. He never looked away from Q, who had gone as still as death, except for the way his eyes tracked Alec. Hunter’s eyes. Predator’s eyes.

Without saying another word, Alec pulled the door open, stepped out onto the mezzanine, and left. He took a deep breath before he could stop himself, and the stink of death jolted him back to his senses.

Get out of Q Branch. Go aboveground. Find James, and to hell with the bloody committee presentation. Alec needed to get the fuck out of the city for a little while, to ground himself in fur and earth and an actual, proper hunt with something other than an addictive vampire as his prize.

 

~~~

 

Q didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

He listened as Alec crossed the branch to the lifts, and he didn’t move. He listened as the doors opened and Alec stepped in, and he didn’t move.

It wasn’t until he heard the lift drag upward and pass two floors before he finally allowed his legs to give out from underneath him.

He didn’t need to breathe at all, but that didn’t stop the inhale he took, deep and shaky. What the _fuck_ was that? He expected Bond and Trevelyan to hunt him down after he snuck out of the hotel room — through the window, of course — and took off. He knew they would scoff at the imposed deadline, but it was never fun to back down from a challenge like that. They wanted to play, and he was more than willing.

He rested his hands on his knees and shook his head. He’d known they would eventually come after him; he’d just assumed it would be sooner, and that it would be _both_ of them. Considering Trevelyan’s reaction to the branch that first day, he would never have suspected the werewolf to actually _come alone_.

It had caught him off guard, and that pissed him off. He was _never_  caught off guard; it was what made him so good at his job.

He’d clearly made Trevelyan uncomfortable when he’d gone still, but what the fuck else was he supposed to do? It was a vampire’s natural defence mechanism to go unnaturally still while assessing the situation. He hadn’t meant to unnerve the agent, but Q himself had been thrown off by Trevelyan showing up alone like that. Q barely knew Trevelyan; he definitely didn’t know if he trusted the werewolf yet. At least not the way he trusted Bond. And that trust had only come with the mission that had brought the previous M’s death and the destruction of Bond’s original home.

Mentally chastising himself for still sitting on the floor, he stood up and turned back to his desk. It took two steps for him to remember he actually needed to go walk the floor and check on everyone’s various projects and missions. That was what he’d been about to do before that bloody werewolf had shown up.

He strode back over to his office door and yanked it open, only to be confronted by a very worried-looking Danielle Marsh. “Bloody fuck,” he muttered. “Will no one let me leave my office today?”

Instead of answering, Danielle looked Q up and down with the sort of disapproving expression that made Q feel twelve years old again — twelve years old and _mortal_. “I _was_ coming to see if you required patching up, but you seem to have made it through your meeting unscathed.”

Embarrassed, Q lowered his gaze, and said, “Apologies, Danielle.” He looked back up at her and stepped out of the way. “Please come in. Was there something you needed?”

She didn’t answer until she was inside, with the door closed to grant them privacy. Then her expression softened into concern. “I saw 006 leaving and... well, sometimes they can get difficult to handle, for us.”

Q flinched inwardly but kept his features schooled. Of _course_ she was here because of Trevelyan. “It’s fine, Danielle,” he half-lied. Despite being a vampire, she got on well with everyone at MI6, including the werewolves. “The Double O’s can be a bit prickly, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He walked over to the tiny kitchenette in the corner of his office. If he was potentially going to talk about his relationship with Bond and Trevelyan, he needed a drink first. “Would you like something to drink? I just got a bottle of Knappogue Castle 1951.” He opened the door to his liquor cabinet to search for the unopened bottle of whiskey.

“Only if you keep it strictly confidential,” she said with a sigh. “In two hours, I need to play nanny for 0015 and one of the CIA’s field agents on a joint mission, and if 0015 gets stroppy once — just once...” She trailed off ominously.

Q snickered as he grabbed two glasses. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m testing the new voice-activation circuit on his gun.” He turned to smile wickedly at Danielle. “If he tells anyone to ‘fuck off’ while holding it, he gets an electric shock. Not enough to incapacitate him, but enough to make _me_ laugh.”

“You’re a terrible person, and if I thought for a minute you were serious, I’d report you,” she scolded, grinning fiercely back at him. “Speaking of reporting, what did 006 want? Do we need to involve Personnel?”

Q huffed but didn’t immediately respond. He poured them each a double and walked back over to Danielle, handing her a glass. “No, it’s fine, honestly. He and Bond are just... curious about their Quartermaster.” He turned and walked behind his desk to sit down.

She arched one perfect grey-blonde eyebrow; unlike most vampires, she’d been turned late in life. “Why am I not surprised,” she said dryly. She took a sip and gave him a surprised, pleased nod. “This is lovely. Don’t ever let _them_ find out you have it, or they’ll be trying to break into your office when you’re not here.”

Q filed that fact away; he’d have to pick up another bottle or two, just in case he ever had occasion to offer the wolves a drink. Perhaps he’d buy one for home as well, though he couldn’t see himself getting the wolves into his territory — not any time soon, at least.

What else did Danielle know about them? She’d been at MI6 since its inception. She knew _everything_ about _everyone_ — including Bond and Trevelyan. If Q could just find a way to get her to share her knowledge without rousing her suspicions, he might be able to anticipate what his wolves would do next.

Q took another sip and let the smoky flavours play along his tongue. Most people thought that vampires’ affinity for blood meant their senses were dulled to human foods. The exact opposite was true, actually. They could taste things in food and drinks that a human never could.

Finally, he swallowed and looked up, though he still didn’t quite meet her eyes. “What do you know about 006 and 007?”

Danielle laughed quietly. “Good heavens, what _don’t_ I know? You’ve never been on the other end of their comms when they’re bored, I take it. For master spies, they chatter worse than my book club.”

“Has it always been the two of them?” Q asked curiously. “I mean, have they _ever_ gone out on mission with someone else?”

“Rarely. James found Alec, you know,” she said, relaxing in her seat. She took another sip, closing her eyes for a moment. “He was feral.”

Q nodded. “I did read that in his file, yes. From what I understand, though, domesticating a feral wolf is almost impossible. Was that Bond’s doing?”

“It must have been, at least in part.” Her eyes narrowed, and she looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “It goes back to... Oh, what was his name? Oberhauser? James’ old mountaineering guide. He worked near one of the feral werewolf preserves set up after the Second World War.”

Q nodded as he took another sip of whiskey. “Yes, I’ve heard of him. His studies on wolf domestication are unparalleled.”

“He helped James with Alec, I believe.”

“That would explain quite a bit, actually,” Q said thoughtfully. “Some of the mannerisms Alec has displayed on missions seem to have come right out of Oberhauser’s published works.”

Q took another drink and sighed to himself. Learning a bit about Trevelyan’s — and Bond’s — history was helpful, but he wasn’t getting the answers he really wanted. He just didn’t know what to ask without raising suspicion. He knew the agents were close, but the rumours about _how_ close were as varied as they were outlandish. If anyone would know the truth, though, it would be the vampire sitting across from him.

Deciding it was better to be direct, he pushed his glasses up and finally looked her in the eye. “What can you tell me about their relationship? They’re the best we’ve got, and I need to know what I’m dealing with where those two are concerned.”

“They’re blood-oathed to each other. Sort of blood brothers, I suppose, to use the mortal term, though it goes beyond that. It altered their physiology. That’s why it’s in their Medical files that only they can donate blood to one another, in an emergency.” She pursed her lips and added, a bit distastefully, “As I understand it, they also share _everything_ , which has complicated more than one mission.”

“ _Everything_?”

She nodded, meeting his eyes over the edge of her glass. “As I said, they come with their own special brand of complications,” she said disapprovingly. For a vampire, Danielle was startlingly conservative, absolutely faithful to her also-vampiric husband of nearly a century.

Q couldn’t help the mental image of sinking his teeth into Trevelyan’s flesh while pressed up against Bond. He blinked and took a stronger sip of the whisky, immensely grateful he didn’t blush anymore.

He cleared his throat and said, “Regardless, they have the highest mission success rate of all the other agents combined. A little complication seems to work well for them.”

“Oh, there’s no denying that. There’s a very good reason that the most difficult or sensitive missions always fall to them. They simply _don’t fail_.” She shook her head, giving Q a wry smile. “And they always survive. Honestly, I can’t count the number of times when I was convinced one or both of them had met his end, only to have them always return.” She finished her drink and set the glass down on Q’s desk. “I realise they can be difficult, and their joint Personnel file takes up whole archive boxes, but they really are the best we have.”

Q followed suit and downed the rest of his drink. Distantly he wondered if he should have savoured the whisky a bit more. Another time.

Hoping to bring this meeting to an end, Q stood and said, “Thank you, Danielle. This conversation has been enlightening, to say the least.”

Danielle smiled and also rose. “You did very well with 007, as I understand it. Just treat 006 the same way, and don’t” — she made a twitchy little gesture with one hand — “bare your throat to either of them. And if all else fails, they’re certainly not immune to Tasers.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind,” Q said with a little laugh. He walked over to the door and held it open for her. “Please say hello to your husband for me.”

“Of course. Have a good afternoon, Q,” she said, giving him one last smile before she left.

Q sighed as he shut the door behind her. Well.

So that would explain why Bond hadn’t bothered returning to Q Branch until after Trevelyan had come back. It would also explain why Trevelyan had left earlier without... following through.

He walked back to his chair and sat down hard. It was clear that Bond and Trevelyan were interested in him; wolves usually were. He knew he was different; he knew wolves found him less repulsive than other vampires. His few past werewolf lovers had even pointed out that he didn’t smell like a ‘dead thing’.

But something about this was different. His connection to Bond and Trevelyan was powerful, consuming. He _wanted_ them, and he _knew_ that feeling was mutual. So why were they stringing this along? What else did they — _could_ they — want?

Q huffed in frustration and sat up. He snatched up his glass, taking care at the last second not to shatter it in his hands. He stood and walked over to the bar to pour himself another drink. There was only one way to find out what they were after; he had to play this out with them. But it still wasn’t his turn to make the next move. Trevelyan showing up meant nothing.

If they did everything together, then they would need to make the next move _together_.

 

~~~

 

James leaned against the access door, watching Alec pace at the very edge of the roof. He could feel the tension crackling off Alec’s body even from six metres away, and he knew Alec’s eyes had gone fully gold.

So much for a relaxing dinner and night lounging in front of the telly. There were some things that could only be cured through extreme measures. Apparently, the Quartermaster was one of them.

“What the _hell_ is it about him?” Alec demanded for the fourth or fifth time.

“No idea,” James answered, just as he had the last half-dozen times Alec had asked. He felt a twinge of frustration at that — not the repetition, but his own lack of knowledge.

After being changed, James had studied everything he could learn about werewolves — feral and civilised, born and made. He’d branched out to studying vampires as well, though never as in-depth. Now, he keenly felt that lack of knowledge. Maybe the answer to the Q-problem was out there somewhere.

“He’s not a threat to us,” he said the next time Alec turned around and met his eyes.

Alec huffed and went back to pacing. As he walked, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and threw it in James’ direction. The wind caught it and halted its flight three metres away. “What the _fuck_ is he?” Alec demanded as he pulled off his shoulder holster.

“He’s our Quartermaster,” James pointed out. He pushed away from the door and went to get Alec’s jacket, and then kept moving to take Alec’s shirt before the wind could claim the lighter fabric for its own. “I hope you’re putting on your fur and not just trying to shock Personnel into giving us another reprimand.”

All he got in response was a growl.

James went to get the discarded weapon, thinking Q would have fits if he caught Alec leaving a gun — an _unregistered_ gun — on the roof. “He’s safe. He _has_ to be safe, or he wouldn’t be our Quartermaster,” he said, though he was admittedly trying to reassure himself of that as well.

Alec kicked his shoes off, aiming them at the roof access. Both hit the door and bounced away. “We’re going to find out. Even if we have to fucking take him apart, we’re going to find out _everything_ —”

“We’re not taking Q apart,” James interrupted, feeling the first prickle of actual worry. He still didn’t know what had happened in Q’s office — only that Alec had gone down for a visit alone.

“We’re going to find out,” Alec repeated, finally stopping to meet James’ eyes again.

James nodded. “I take it you don’t feel like waiting?”

Alec huffed, undid his belt, and unzipped his flies.

“Taking off your bloody trousers isn’t an answer.”

“James.”

Surrendering, James said nothing else. He just watched as Alec shoved down his trousers and pants and turned the motion into a graceful fall forward.

For Alec, a born-wolf, the transition was as fast as a blink, with no struggle at all. One instant, he was a man, absurdly naked except for socks, falling to all fours on the roof; the next, a pale-furred wolf stepped out of the socks and padded away from the fabric. In his wolf form, Alec stood waist-high to James, with jaws that could crush steel and gold eyes that held no hint of their natural green.

“You realise you do this to me _all the bloody time_ , don’t you?” James said as he gathered up the rest of his discarded clothes. “I’m getting you saddlebags if you keep this up.”

It was an empty threat and they both knew it. Alec opened his mouth and huffed in amusement, nosing at Bond’s side to get him moving.

James held his ground, frowning down at Alec. “You want to go see him _now_? Like that? If this is an excuse to bite off his hand if he tries to touch you, then we’ll have worse than Personnel to deal with.”

Alec didn’t sit. He gave James another push.

But his hackles were down, ears forward, so he was actually _more_ relaxed now than he’d been in his human skin. James rolled the suit into a bundle around Alec’s shoes and holstered gun, figuring the dry cleaners could repair any damage he inflicted, and went to the door, with Alec walking silently at his side.

“Don’t even think of biting him,” James warned as he pulled the door open. “I didn’t bring breath mints, and wolves can’t properly chew gum.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Wednesday, 17 April 2013**

As the lift doors opened, Q reached into his pocket to get his keys — and stopped, sensing that he wasn’t alone, though at first he heard nothing out of place. No footsteps. No shuffling as someone dug through a bag for keys. No soft voice speaking on a mobile phone. No sign of life at all in the garage.

Not that the silence convinced him his instincts were wrong.

Warily, he walked out of the bank of lifts and into the garage, where he immediately spotted Bond lurking in the CCTV blind spot where MI6 employees usually hid to sneak a quick fag on rainy days. Unsurprised, Q went right over to Bond, intentionally stepping out of the cameras’ view.

“Bond.”

Bond didn’t step back. Didn’t look away. And while he didn’t step closer, he _felt_ closer, focused entirely on Q. “Alec came to see you earlier.”

It wasn’t a question. Judging by the fact that Bond was here in the parking garage — yet again — he already knew about the exchange in Q’s office. So, if Bond had seen Trevelyan, where was the other wolf now? Why were they _still_ separated?

Q gazed evenly at Bond, cocking his head to one side, and said, “Yes. He did. Curious he came alone. Where were you?”

“I had to give a threat assessment presentation.” Bond grinned an utterly charming grin that lit up his eyes. “Alec’s not allowed near the conference rooms these days.”

Q laughed quietly. He felt the tension of being caught off-guard by Bond ease. “Of course he’s not. My kind don’t take well to wooden tables being set on fire in front of them. Exactly how many vampires were in that meeting, again?”

“Alec _likes_ fire,” Bond pointed out, still grinning. “And he’s very good with fire. Much better than he is with idiot committee chairs asking budgetary questions regarding a mission that nearly killed us both.”

“If you two were capable of being killed, I might actually believe that,” Q countered, smiling. “And I’m not talking about your being bloody werewolves. You two seem —”

“Unstoppable? Brilliant?” Bond interrupted, leaning a bit closer. “ _Irresistible?_ ”

“Too _ignorant_ to notice when death is courting you?” Q countered.

“We’ve been courting death for almost a hundred years, Quartermaster.” Finally, he did touch, pressing his fingertips to Q’s sleeve. “Death has just never been this... _curious_ before.”

With Bond’s hand still on his arm, Q reached out to lightly brush his own fingers against Bond’s hip. “Death isn’t curious, 007. You’re just a bloody tease.”

“And you’re not?” Bond curled his fingers just enough for Q to feel gentle pressure against his skin. “What did you do to Alec?”

So Bond was being possessive. After the conversation Q had with Danielle, he wasn’t the least bit surprised. He brought his body flush with Bond’s — the slight hum of electricity returned — and leaned in to whisper in Bond’s ear, “Nothing he didn’t start himself. Maybe you should have been there.”

Bond’s fingers closed tightly around Q’s arm. “I’m here now, Quartermaster,” he said, his voice quiet but tense.

Q desperately wanted to flick his tongue out and lick the shell of Bond’s ear, but he kept himself in check. “You are. But I don’t see your other half. Where is he, I might ask?”

“Waiting.” Bond turned his head, and Q felt the faint rasp of stubble catch against his hair, tugging at the strands, followed by a slow, deep inhale.

Q recognized the movement from Trevelyan’s behavior earlier. And just as before, Q went completely still. He closed his eyes and reveled in having Bond close. His mind was racing, torn between wanting to step back and figure out what this connection between them was and satisfaction that he was with his other werewolf. And they were _his_. Whether they knew it or not.

He slid his hand around Bond’s hip and gripped hard. “It’s nice that he’s waiting, but since _this_ won’t be going any further without him here, I see no point in continuing our conversation.”

It was then that Q heard it. A faint whisper of fur on cement, the soft click of claws, coming from the direction of his car... And he _knew_. It was Trevelyan.

He yanked his arm out of Bond’s grasp and pushed back. He stopped once there was a good two feet between them and narrowed his eyes, searching Bond’s face. “Tell me you didn’t corner me in the garage _again_ with Trevelyan in his fur!” he demanded.

Bond took a step back, hands raised, free of any hint of claws. “Calm down, Q,” he said warily.

Q’s only warning was a faint scrape on the pavement. Then a ghost-pale wolf stepped into view. As the huge wolf walked to Bond’s side, its feral gold eyes never looked away from Q, not even when Bond dropped one hand to bury his fingers in the wolf’s thick coat.

Anger boiled up inside of Q. There was nothing from his encounter with Trevelyan that should have incited the man to come in his fur and corner Q. “There is _no reason_ he needs to be in wolf form,” he ground out. “What could I have _possibly_ done wrong?”

Trevelyan’s lips curled back, and he let out a growl that abruptly cut off when Bond’s hand clenched in his fur. “He chose to come find you like this,” Bond said steadily. “This is who he is. He wasn’t born human.”

“I know that,” Q spat out, never taking his eyes off the wolf. He felt that hard press of concrete as he backed up against the wall. “I read his file, Bond. That still doesn’t explain why he felt the need to find me this way. Or did you forget that I’m a vampire?”

Trevelyan shifted his front paws forward. Bond uncurled his fingers from the thick fur as the wolf lowered himself to the ground until he was lying against Bond’s leg.

“It’s not always aggression, this form,” Bond said, finally looking away from Q to turn his attention to Trevelyan instead. “He’s showing you who he is inside, Q — not who he has to be here, surrounded by humans.”

“Oh, so you mean you _didn’t_ come here to attack me?” Q asked wryly. He didn’t step out of his defensive stance, but he couldn’t help notice the way Trevelyan looked like nothing more than a dog who just wanted his ears scratched.

“If we had, you’d already be down,” Bond said simply. Trevelyan let out a sharp huff of breath — a very human sound of derision, coming from a giant wolf.

Q had to fight with his base instincts to pull his fangs in, but he managed after a few seconds. He looked back up at Bond, who was still watching him, his expression calm and unreadable. “I believe you,” he answered.

And he did. As much as he wanted to show it, though, he couldn’t bring himself to step closer. Too many years of wolves being little more than a barely veiled threat warred with his interest in Bond and Trevelyan. He wanted to take a deep breath to calm himself but held back, refusing to show weakness. “You still haven’t told me why you’ve come looking for me.”

Bond shrugged. “No one else here is _interesting_.” That got another huff from Trevelyan, who was still staring at Q.

“And what makes you think I'm interesting? I’m just a vampire, and last time I checked, you two aren’t exactly fans of my kind.”

Bond laughed softly. “If you have to ask that, perhaps we’re doing something wrong.” He glanced down and nudged Trevelyan, who pushed back up to all fours. Q flinched inwardly, but managed to keep his expression neutral. Trevelyan’s ears twitched as he lifted his head, meeting Bond’s eyes. Q had no idea if the two were communicating silently — werewolves kept their secrets just as close as vampires did. After a few seconds, Bond looked back at Q and said, “We’ll leave you alone, if you’d prefer.”

“No.” Q heard himself speak before he even realised he’d meant to. As much as the sight of Trevelyan in his fur unnerved him, he didn’t want them to leave, not if they really didn’t mean any harm. He took a tentative step closer and looked pointedly at Trevelyan. “Please don’t. I’m just not used to being around wolves in full fur. At least not in a controlled environment.”

After throwing another glance up at Bond, Trevelyan sat down and went back to staring at Q. Bond moved forward, a hint of tension returning to his body. “I know the personnel handbook talks about safe spaces and controlled environments, but we both know better,” he said with a little laugh. “We let the humans think that, for their own peace of mind.”

Q quirked an eyebrow up at Bond and took another step forward as well. “I’m aware of what the handbook says, yes. But as long as you don’t plan to eviscerate me, I think we’ll be fine.” He tried to keep his eyes on Bond, but he couldn’t stop glancing at Trevelyan. He’d never touched a wolf in full fur before, and he couldn’t help wanting to run his fingers through it to see what it felt like.

“We don’t,” Bond said without hesitation. “We’re just here to talk.” Then he laughed and looked back at Trevelyan. “Or _one_ of us is. The other one decided to take off his pants on the bloody roof.”

Q laughed, despite himself. “I think I would have liked to see that, actually.”

Trevelyan started to rise. Bond turned and said, “Security cameras.” Trevelyan’s ears twitched forward, and he turned to stare at Bond. Then, with a dramatic huff, he flopped back down to lie on the cement, head turned away, ignoring them both.

Q felt the last bit of tension uncoil at the sight of Trevelyan’s petulance. He walked forward and crouched down in front of Trevelyan, going slowly to advertise his intent. Trevelyan turned his head back to watch Q. “I’m not sure if this is the right way to ask this, but” — Q lifted his hand over Trevelyan’s head — “may I pet you?”

Trevelyan’s fur ruffled up again as he let out a low, rumbling growl. Q instinctively pulled his hand back at the noise.

“Q,” Bond warned softly. “That’s not a casual touch. That sort of intimacy is reserved for few others.”

Q looked back at Bond, feeling mildly embarrassed. Even though his past lovers had never shown him their fur, it never occurred to him it was because they didn’t want to be touched. Especially not after the way Bond and Trevelyan had been behaving around him lately.

He stood up and backed away from Trevelyan. The last thing he needed was to have his hand bitten off by an offended werewolf. He looked between them both and said, “I apologise. I shouldn’t have assumed that werewolves touched as freely as vampires do.”

“It’s a matter of circumstance. We’re more aware of our bodies than humans. More careful about touch, whether it’s fur or skin,” Bond said, looking steadily at Q as he held out his hand.

Q looked from Bond’s face to his hand but didn’t take it. “Then why do you want to touch me?”

Bond smiled slowly and gave a beckoning twitch of his fingers. “At least you’re not questioning that I very much _do_ want to touch you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, inviting growl full of promise rather than threat.

Q reached out to run his nails softly along the back of Bond’s hand. The jolt from even that small touch sent a shiver down his spine. “Oh, I’m aware you want to touch me; you’ve made that perfectly clear.” He stared at their hands and wrapped his fingers loosely around Bond’s wrist. With a small tug to pull Bond even closer, he finally looked up to meet Bond’s eyes. “That still doesn’t answer why.”

Bond turned his hand to take hold of Q’s wrist, fingers gentle but firm. “I’ll let you know,” he said, deliberately leaning in to brush his face against Q’s hair.

Q went still again. This close, he could feel Bond’s blood pulsing in his veins. He wanted to close his eyes and reach out to wrap his arm around Bond, but he didn’t know if he could keep himself from biting Bond’s flesh. Regardless of where this was going, he was sure Trevelyan would react, and he didn’t feel like inciting the other wolf while he had his fur on.

“God, you...” Q trailed off, luxuriating in the feel of Bond pressed against him. He wanted to tell Bond just how badly he wanted him — how badly he wanted _both_ of them — but now wasn’t the time for that. Q still didn’t understand the connection between them, which meant this game wasn’t over yet.

 

~~~

 

Normally for Alec, putting on his fur helped to keep his human concerns at arm’s length. It was hard to give a damn about paperwork or politics or even emptying the bloody dishwasher when most problems could be solved by baring sharp, gleaming fangs. But with fur came heightened senses, and he hadn’t bargained on Q. Not like this.

He’d sniffed around Q’s car, catching traces of his scent mingled with the mechanical stink of engine oil and petrol, and he’d stayed calm. But when Q himself had stepped out of the lift, his presence had slammed into Alec like a blast wave. Alec had wanted nothing more than to run Q down and roll in his scent, feeling skin spark on fur — and that thought had held Alec paralysed.

Too many minutes had passed before he’d been able to take his place beside James, and his mind cleared only when James touched his fur, as if that touch grounded out the lightning strike that was the Quartermaster.

And then came the offer of Q’s touch — an offer that was enticing and horrifying in equal measure, not because Alec didn’t want it but because he _did_. Fortunately, James had stopped Alec from letting Q anywhere near him, and they’d both misunderstood his growl, taking it for a threat rather than a betrayal of Alec’s own confusion.

Not that James had any such confusion. He touched Q freely, drawing him close, and Alec seethed with _want_ for them both. As soon as they stepped apart, Alec pushed up from the cement and walked to James’ side, to lean heavily against his hip, muzzle just inches away from Q’s body. Q went still in that unnerving way vampires did, but Alec told himself not to react. It was fine. Q was _different_.

James’ fingers brushed against Alec’s fur. Alec glanced up at him, knowing what he was thinking. But Alec wasn’t quite ready to allow Q too close — or maybe he _was_ ready and just wouldn’t admit it to himself. He’d needed to see Q with his real eyes, to taste his scent on the air; that was enough. For now.

When Alec didn’t push forward, James turned back to Q and again held out his hand. “We shouldn’t keep you any longer. I’m certain you had plans.”

For several long moments, Q didn’t move. He didn’t even blink; he just stared at James, his expression unreadable. When he finally did move — he slowly reached out to run his fingers along James’ hand again — it was jarring. Like watching a statue in a museum come to life.

Instead of taking James’ hand, though, Q pulled back and held his own hand out, palm up, in open invitation.

James slid his hand over Q’s palm. Alec watched him trace the ridges and lines there, before dragging his fingertips up to Q’s wrist and around. Slowly, James lifted Q’s hand, never looking away from his eyes. Realising what James was about to do, Alec’s hackles rose, though he kept himself from growling in warning.

James looked away only when Q’s hand was inches from his face. Then he leaned down, closing his eyes as he breathed in Q’s scent. James’ lips brushed Q’s wrist, and Alec saw them both flinch without pulling away. When James lifted his head and opened his eyes, Alec saw they’d gone completely gold.

Biting back a growl, Alec pressed hard against James’ hip and tipped his muzzle up to brush Q’s cuff with his nose. Not properly alive, Q’s scent should’ve been light on his clothing, barely discernible, but that wasn’t the case at all. The fibres were rich with _Q_ , and Alec didn’t realise he’d bit Q’s sleeve until he found himself tugging at the cloth.

“Was there something you wanted, Trevelyan?”

Figuring there was no graceful way to write this off as a mistake — and really, he didn’t care what either of them thought at this point — Alec pulled harder, fixing his teeth in the fabric. James let out a faint, choked sound but didn’t try to interfere.

Q huffed in amusement but didn’t try to stop Alec or pull away from James. “You know, I find it completely unfair I don’t get to touch you, but you get to steal my cardigan,” he teased.

Alec went still for a moment. Was Q asking? Offering a bargain? Q wasn’t some human for Alec to seduce, overwhelm, and then leave when they were through. He was a vampire — a predator — but he was also something else. Something _more_.

Carefully, Alec drew his fangs out of the soft fabric. He thought about how James had touched his lips to Q’s dead skin without growling or lashing out. That flinch had been shock, not distaste. But James was in his skin, his human-form senses blunted.

Alec moved his muzzle from Q’s sleeve to his wrist, still bared. Every muscle in his body locked with tension. His instincts were screaming at him to attack or back away — not this grey, uncharted middle ground between the two. Warily Alec stared up at Q, prepared to pull back if he so much as twitched, and touched his nose to Q’s wrist.

But Q didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He just watched, and Alec slowly relaxed, because there was nothing repulsive about Q at all, even to Alec’s heightened natural senses. He was like summer lightning in the wilds, clean and raw and powerful, with only the least lingering trace of death around him, probably from the other corpses in Q Branch.

Alec exhaled. Inhaled. He let his eyes close so he could concentrate everything on Q, wondering what the _hell_ made him different. He turned just enough to drag his whiskers over Q’s skin, jerking back in surprise at the shock of power at the contact, like brushing against a live wire.

He dropped his muzzle and sneezed, shaking his head.

Q chuckled quietly and inched his hand towards Alec’s muzzle. He stopped just short of actually touching Alec, though. “Done already?”

Suppressing the urge to sneeze again, Alec tossed his head, avoiding Q’s hand in favour of going for his sleeve again. He’d touched the vampire and got shocked for his troubles — though not painfully. Now, he wanted the damned cardigan, and he wanted to go home, to his territory, with his prize.

“So you actually _are_ going to steal my cardigan, aren’t you,” Q commented, the humour still evident in his voice. He looked up at James and asked, “Will he relent if I don’t give it up? Or should I just admit defeat now and hand it over?”

“I think you’ll have to give it up,” James said with a grin. “Would you like me to fetch you a proper lab coat instead?”

“I think I’ll survive,” Q answered dryly, with a knowing grin of his own. He looked down at Alec again and tugged his arm. “If you want it, I’m afraid you’ll need to let go for a moment.”

Ears flattened with mild embarrassment, Alec freed his fangs and sat down, leaning against James. He’d have to remember to ask what the hell the lab coat reference meant.

Then, as he watched Q set his bag down so he could take off the cardigan, Alec forgot all about the lab coat. He dropped his jaw in a grin and slid down to lie between James and Q, putting his muzzle in perfect reach of Q’s trouser cuff.

One sharp pull, and Q jumped back out of Alec’s reach. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “Now you want my trousers, too? It’s one or the other, Trevelyan. You can’t have both.” He tried to give Alec a hard stare, but his green eyes were sparkling.

Grinning fiercely now, Alec let go of the trousers and rolled back against James’ legs so he could look up at them both. James laughed and crouched down to run a hand through Alec’s fur. “If you’re taking off your trousers, you’ll definitely need the lab coat. Though I’ll admit I hadn’t pictured you dropping them for us in a parking garage. At least not the first time.”

“You obviously don’t know vampires very well, then.” Q placed his hands on his belt and smiled mischievously. “Besides, this isn’t the first time, at least not down here in the garage. And I’m —”

Alec knocked James back and surged to his feet with a growl at the thought of Q down here with _anyone_ else.

“What the fuck?” Q stumbled back before he got his footing, balanced up on his toes, hands raised to strike or defend. Fangs bared, he turned his vicious glare on James and snapped, “You said he wouldn’t attack me!”

Realising what he’d done — that some feral part of him was thinking of Q as _his_ — Alec forced himself down to the cement, though all he wanted to do was to drag Q down with him, marking Q as his own. Behind him, he heard James moving with slow care.

“I don’t know,” James admitted tensely.

Hating himself, Alec dropped his head to the floor between his paws and whined in apology. He was rubbish at looking harmless, but Q was no idiot. And if he didn’t get the message, at least James could explain that much.

Q eyed Alec suspiciously. After a moment, he stood up straight and started quickly unbuttoning his cardigan. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Trevelyan. But let’s get one thing straight.” He ripped the cardigan off and dropped it in front of Alec’s snout. “You _will not_ show up in wolf form again until I find out.”

Without another word, Q picked up his bag and stepped around James and Alec to walk towards his car. Alec lifted his head to watch, resisting the urge to growl. He didn’t want to let Q leave, but he wasn’t ready to let Q get too close, either. He was a vampire. Every instinct should’ve had Alec wanting to tear off his head. And what had confused Alec in human form was only magnified in his fur, rather than diminished, as he’d hoped.

“That went...” James started, though he didn’t finish.

Alec huffed in irritation and pushed up to all fours, indulging in a short growl as he heard the beep of a car alarm. He reached his muzzle towards the cardigan, only to realise he needed his head clear. If he picked the damned thing up, he’d end up cuddling it in the car on the ride home or something equally undignified. Instead, he looked expectantly up at James.

“Why yes, I’m happy to carry _all_ of your rubbish around for you,” James said dryly as he picked up the cardigan. Then he frowned, feeling the finely knitted material between his fingers, and started to lift it.

Alec growled in warning; the sound was almost lost under the roar of an engine starting. James had chosen his position in the garage carefully, waiting in the one location that was both without known CCTV camera coverage and close enough to the lifts for them to catch Q on his way out. But still, there was no need for any accidental coverage to show James sniffing at Q’s clothes. Bad enough Alec had behaved as possessively as he had done.

“Right.” James gave Alec a grim smile, tucked the cardigan under his arm, and started for the truck. Alec followed more slowly, thinking the cardigan had been a mistake. Not that he wouldn’t take the opportunity to indulge in learning Q’s scent — of course he would — but he was already addicted, and a scrap of fabric wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**Friday, 17 May 2013**

Q stared at the huge wall monitor in front him and tried not to blink. He had no reason to do so — he had no reason to move at all — but sometimes, when the work was truly boring, his old human habits tended to creep up. At the moment, 0015 was waiting for his mark — an ambassador with ties to several terrorist cells — to return home, and as Quartermaster, it was Q’s job to oversee all Priority One missions. Even if it was Friday night.

He huffed in annoyance, rather than blinking. The mark was meant to return home earlier in the evening after a state dinner but had decided to seduce a member of the wait staff instead. So an op that should have ended sometime between eight and nine local time was now pushing eleven.

Movement on one of the CCTV feeds showed the ambassador _finally_ getting into his car. Q reached over and flipped the commlink on. “0015, please be advised the ambassador is en route and should be back home in about ten minutes.” He flipped the commlink back off and went back to staring — unblinkingly — at the monitor in front of him.

It wasn’t long before a faint, welcome noise at his back distracted him, and Q turned to see Bond and Trevelyan standing there, their attention fixed not on the monitor but on Q himself. Neither looked injured, which was a pleasant change. Q’s research into their field work revealed that the two seemed to be in competition for the ‘most mission-related injuries’ award.

Bond was impeccably dressed, this time in classic summer-weight grey wool. Trevelyan wasn’t even pretending to be civilised; his shirt was undone at the throat, sleeves rolled up, and there was no sign at all that he’d had a tie or jacket at any point. Both werewolves were tanned, their blond hair lightened by the sun.

Q smirked at the pair of them. “Well, look at you two, back in one piece with barely a scratch between you. I’m wondering if we shouldn’t alert the media. This is a red letter day, after all.”

“Photo op,” Trevelyan said, glancing at Bond.

Grinning, Bond answered, “We could do one of those charity calendars, if we found the right setting.”

Trevelyan turned to Q. “There any rules about using the firing range when nude? And if there are, would you turn us in for breaking them?”

Q turned back to the screen before answering. “It depends on the form you’ll be taking. If you wear your fur, I might. If not, I _definitely_ will if you don’t invite me to watch.” He smiled to himself at the idea of staring at their perfect, bare arses as they lay side-by-side, firing the modified L115A3 sniper rifles locked away in the armoury. He might not even cut the security feed on the range.

“You find the photographer; we’ll pick a worthy charity,” Bond offered blandly, walking forward to set down a briefcase — _not_ a briefcase issued by Q Branch. “We’ll need a bit of replacement kit first.”

“Sorry, Bond, but if it isn’t one of ours, we’re not buying you a new one,” Q said and went back to looking at the monitor.

“But it is _ours_ ,” Bond said, his voice pitched intimately low. He leaned one hip against the workstation and flicked the catches on the briefcase. As soon as he opened the lid, the smell of werewolf intensified.

Q glanced back down and grabbed the lid out of Bond’s hand, opening it the rest of the way. Inside he found _one_ of the two guns he’d issued to them, both radios, none of the mini-grenades and... his cardigan. Completely covered in fur, but still in one piece, save one mildly frayed cuff.

Q looked up at Bond in surprise. He’d been certain the cardigan was long gone. “My cardigan? I wasn’t aware it was a needed piece on your last mission.”

“Call it a consumable,” Trevelyan said. “Why aren’t you wearing one now?”

“Because I don’t wear one every day?” Q commented dryly.

“Then it’ll have to be the trousers. Off with them.”

Mentally calculating at least another five minutes until the mark returned home, Q allowed himself to turn fully back around and face Trevelyan. “I’m not giving you my trousers, 006. Be lucky I gave you the cardigan to begin with.” He leaned back against the high desk, placing his hands to either side of his hips. “What do you want with them, anyway?”

“We,” Bond said, leaning in close to Q so he could speak more softly. “ _We_ want —”

“ _I_ asked first,” Trevelyan interrupted, his gaze sliding from Q to Bond. “And he likes me more.”

“He does not,” Bond scoffed, looking at Q.

“Of course he does. Everyone likes me more.” Trevelyan grinned expectantly at Q.

Q closed his eyes to keep from rolling them and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he glared at each wolf in turn. “Whenever you two are done sniping at each other, can we get back to why you want my trousers?”

Bond ignored Q and shrugged at Trevelyan. “At least he’s not arguing that we _do_ want them.”

“We could negotiate,” Trevelyan proposed. “We’re good at negotiating. Look how we ended that hostage situation.”

“You set the building on fire.”

“Well, yes. But we did phone them to warn them first.” Trevelyan smiled at Q and said, “We’ll take the shirt instead. Or also. ‘Also’ sounds better, actually.”

“As enticing as it sounds to strip for you in the middle of _my branch_ , I don’t fancy babysitting 0015 in nothing but my pants.”

“You’re running a mission?” Bond asked, the interest gone from his voice.

“Technically, yes. Although I have” — Q sighed and turned back to face the monitor as he calculated time remaining — “another three minutes until our mark shows up.”

He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but he knew he’d done a poor job of it. He hadn’t seen much of Bond or Trevelyan since the night in the garage. He wanted to know what had happened with Trevelyan and what they’d done with his cardigan — although the mass of wolf fur currently on it made it easy to guess. The reminder that this mission _still_ wasn’t over — and that Q wasn’t on his way out with the two of them — irritated him that much more.

Bond turned to root through the briefcase. He took out one of the radios and slipped it into his pocket. “We’ll leave you to it, then.”

Q opened his mouth to say something about the radio but let it go. Knowing Bond, he’d find out soon enough. Instead, he asked casually, “Are you two going out tonight, then?”

“We’ll find something to do.” Bond deliberately ran his fingers over the cardigan before he closed the briefcase. Q watched, remembering how that sort of touch felt. A spike of anger and arousal swept through him, and he wished viciously that Bond’s fingers were on _him_.

Then Bond pushed away from the workstation and crossed the open office. Trevelyan fell in beside him, and they left, heading for the lifts.

Q tore his eyes away from the branch doors and shook his head. He needed to get Bond and Trevelyan off his mind.

Luckily a faint popping sound had Q turning back to his monitor in time to see the ambassador drop just inside his front door. Q checked his clock and saw the man was a minute early, but no matter. The job was done.

With a pleased sigh, Q flipped the commlink back on and said, “Good work, 0015. You’re free to leave; there’s no need for cleanup on this one. Transport back to London is at 0500 hours. Have a safe flight.”

Without waiting for a response, Q turned the commlink off and started shutting everything down. He had someplace to be. He wasn’t sure where yet, but with the radio tucked away in Bond’s pocket, he knew it was only a matter of time before he found out.

 

~~~

 

Forty-five minutes later, Q stood in front of Hyde Manor and stared up at the stately building before him. He knew Bond and Trevelyan were inside, but chances were, so were at least a dozen or more other werewolves who would take a lot less kindly to his being there. It was rare to find a wolf at Hydra Code, and even more so to find a vampire at London’s most exclusive wolf hotel.

When Q got home after 0015’s mission, he immediately checked the radio that Bond had stolen. Sure enough, it had been activated the moment the wolves had left, and showed them heading home before coming here.

He’d quickly changed into a fitted black V-neck T-shirt, dark blue jeans, and new black Versace shoes before driving to the werewolf hotel. Normally he would have run, but he didn’t want to scuff the shoes. And unlike the night at Hydra Code, he had no idea what to expect from this establishment, so he kept his dress low-key.

Steeling himself, Q walked up to the front, where two human doormen opened the doors for him. Beyond was a narrow foyer, all dark wood and subdued lighting, with walls that were almost hidden behind greenery. Vines crawled up to meet hanging baskets of trailing plants. There were small potted trees in the corners, carefully trimmed to look wild without overgrowing their planters. Even Q’s sharp eyes nearly missed the human attendant lurking by a particularly leafy tree.

“Welcome to Hyde Manor, sir,” the man said calmly, though Q could see his pulse beating rapidly in his throat. “How can we be of service?”

“I’m here to see a pair of wolves. They’ll be expecting me,” Q informed the man, keeping his voice calm and even. “I believe they’re under the name Sterling.”

The man blinked — practically a shout from such a composed human. “Of course, sir. This way, please,” he said, and finally moved away from the tree. Behind where he’d been standing, Q saw the faint outline of a door set into the leafy wall.

The human led him through the foyer and down a hall with doors on one side and floor-to-ceiling windows on the other. The windows overlooked what Q presumed was a garden or central courtyard, though the greenery was too thick for him to see anything other than plants. There were only a few doors, and the man didn’t stop until they were at the last. He knocked quietly, gave Q a polite nod, and walked back towards the foyer.

Q tracked the man’s departure out of the corner of his eye but didn’t turn away from the door. Now that he was alone _inside_ the wolf hotel, Q felt himself going still. He was uncomfortably aware that he was in a sanctum with a group that _did not_ want him there.

Then Bond opened the door, wearing a perfect black dinner suit, and Q couldn’t help but notice how devastating he looked in it. With an equally devastating smile, Bond stepped aside, saying, “Come in.”

Q reached out and touched the lapel of Bond’s jacket as he passed. “What’s the special occasion?”

“I’ll leave you to come up with a sufficient answer.” Bond closed the door at Q’s back.

The room beyond was the size of a suite, though without many internal walls. Like the foyer, it was a curious mix of a formal hotel room and a greenhouse, with plants surrounding a grouping of heavy leather chairs and a plush sofa. At first, Q missed any sign of a bed, until he realised it was a low mattress, without a boxspring, under a canopy of ivy trained down a frame.

A faint sound brought Q’s attention back to the other side of the room, where Trevelyan was apparently hiding out of sight on the sofa. “About bloody time you showed up.”

Bond sighed. “Everything went all right with the mission?” he asked more politely.

Q smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets. Which, he told himself, had nothing to do with keeping himself from touching Bond again. “It went just fine. One less official funding terrorist organisations.”

Bond laughed quietly and gestured Q into the room. “No trouble finding us, I hope?” he asked, brushing his hand down Q’s bare arm.

Q held back the shiver but not the sigh at Bond’s touch. He refused to admit to himself that he’d been thinking about it ever since they’d left Q Branch earlier.

He slid past Bond and said, “None at all. That might not be what my tech was designed for, but I can’t —”

Q stopped dead in his tracks as Trevelyan came into view, lounging across the sofa in a lazy sprawl. Unlike Bond, Alec wasn’t wearing a dinner suit. Or any suit, for that matter.

He wasn’t wearing anything at all.

Q stared openly, taking in the gorgeous sight before him. Trevelyan’s skin was smooth and unscarred, lightly dusted with fine gold hair over his broad chest. Even in his lazy, casual sprawl, his abs were ripped, and Q wanted to drag his fingers and tongue over the shadowed valleys between his muscles. The skin at his hip was a shade more pale than the rest of him. The sight of his cock, soft and resting on dark gold curls, felt like an invitation for Q to come and play. He had to force himself to keep looking down over long, muscular legs until he could think rationally again. He’d known Trevelyan was handsome, but hadn’t expected this. The man was so finely sculpted, describing him as anything less than a work of art would have been absolutely criminal.

Q walked up to stand over Trevelyan and grinned. “You know, Trevelyan, when Bond —”

“Alec,” Trevelyan interrupted, smirking. “Or are we still on formal terms?”

Q quirked an eyebrow at the wolf and gazed at him, assessing. “No. I suppose we’re not. Alec.” He smiled to himself as he let the name roll around in his head. After a moment he turned to Bond and asked, “Does this mean I get to call you James?”

“If you’d like, unless you tell us we can’t call you ‘Q’,” Bond — _James —_ answered. “It rather suits you.”

“Actually, Q _is_ my name. I changed it soon after I became Quartermaster.” He turned back to Alec and allowed the enticing view to distract him from any potentially uncomfortable questions about age and past identities. “So tell me, Alec. James here looks like he’s ready for a formal affair, but you... Is this your subtle way of telling me you still want me to strip?”

“It’s this or fur, Quartermaster. Your choice,” Alec invited, making no move to cover himself or even sit up. He just stared up at Q with eyes that were more gold than green, a smug little grin playing at his lips.

“What he means to say is that it’s nice to see you, too,” James said, sitting down in one of the armchairs. “Make yourself at home.”

Q pulled his hand out of his pocket and brushed his fingertips over Alec’s shoulder, feeling power spark to life between them. “Oh, I think I much prefer you like this,” he whispered, delighted. Each wolf was gorgeous in his own way. James, with his perfect dinner suit and cool blue eyes, was the very picture of a civilised, elegant killer. Alec, unashamedly naked, was nothing but raw, feral power. And they’d chosen to show themselves like this for _him_.

He took off his glasses and set them down on a side table before he stripped off his shirt. Turning, he tossed the shirt back at Alec and went to the armchair. He sat, smiling at both wolves, and crossed his legs.

“Yes,” he said, allowing his pleasure to colour his tone of voice, “I believe I will make myself at home.”

Only when Alec rolled onto his side did James look away from Q. Following James’ gaze, Q could just see a hint of the T-shirt bundled under Alec’s head. He hid a smile, suspecting he wouldn’t be getting it back any time soon.

“Don’t stop there on my account,” Alec said, looking deliberately at Q’s jeans.

“Sorry, but flashing your perfectly formed... _whatever_ at me will not get you my trousers. Those you’re going to have to earn.”

“Ah. Our misunderstanding,” James said, lifting a hand to start unknotting his tie. “Would you prefer to watch, rather than participate?”

Q froze for barely a second before composing his features back into the playful mask he’d been wearing. He’d honestly no idea what to expect when he’d come here; he certainly wasn’t expecting both of them to be so forward. He’d rather been enjoying all the foreplay.

“No one said anything about not wanting to participate. I just hadn’t realised we’d progressed that far in our little game here.” Q shifted away from James to look at Alec. “A girl does like to be wined and dined, after all.”

To his surprise, instead of a laugh or flirtatious comeback, that got him a hard stare from both werewolves. The air in the room seemed to fill with the sudden, electric threat of violence, and Q recalled that these weren’t tame dogs. They were assassins as well as werewolves, and he was outnumbered.

Q gripped the armrests tight and sunk back into his chair. He allowed himself a moment to go still before responding to what was obviously misinterpreted as a demand to feed off of them. “That’s not what I meant,” he murmured, trying to keep the defensiveness out of his voice. “I have no plans to attack either of you. I never have.”

Alec sat up slowly, his body tense. “One _hint_ of fangs, and you leave here in pieces.”

“Alec,” James said quietly.

Alec growled without looking away from Q. “That’s the only way you stay.”

Q narrowed his eyes at Alec. “Do you really think that’s fair? After what happened in the garage? You came at me in _wolf form_ , so I had no clue about any of _your_ motivations. And this one” — he pointed at James without looking away — “couldn’t give me a straight enough answer about any of it!” He went still again and assessed the situation. If he wasn’t careful with his actions, this would end very badly for all of them. “So, tell me, Alec. Are you even _capable_ of being around me without wanting to attack me?”

“Alec,” James said again, still calm and controlled. When Alec finally turned away from Q, James said, “He’s watching out for me, Q. It’s what we do for each other.”

“That’s nice for you, James,” Q replied acidly. “But tell me something. In this scenario, who’s watching out for me?”

“We’re not about to _feed_ on you,” Alec snarled.

“And I’m not about to feed on you!” Q snapped, throwing Alec’s words back at him. This conversation was going nowhere, and Q was beginning to think maybe he should just leave. He flicked his eyes in the direction of the door and wondered if getting up now would be seen as a threat by either of the wolves. If they took it as even a hint that it was, Q was certain he’d never make it that far.

When Alec still didn’t relax from his aggressive posture, James said, “Alec. I trust him. He’s our Quartermaster.”

“And if there’s an ‘accident’?”

“There won’t be.” James looked over at Q as he deliberately went back to undoing his tie. He pulled the scrap of black fabric free and draped it over the arm of his chair.

Q closed his eyes and tried to decide if he should tell them about his eating habits. They didn’t need to know everything, but if this was going to go any further, they had a right to know that.

Fighting against the urge to take a deep breath, Q opened his eyes and looked directly at Alec. “I can say with absolute honesty, I have _never_ fed off of someone unwilling,” he half-admitted. There was more to it than that, but he wasn’t ready for them to know all of it. Not yet.

Alec threw a questioning look at James, who studied Q’s expression for a few seconds. “Then no one needs to worry,” James said. “No fur. No fangs.”

Slowly, Alec sat back. He nodded, looking back at Q. “Agreed.”

Q eased out of his stillness into a more relaxed posture. Relieved that the evening wasn’t going to be a total wash, he smiled and answered, “Agreed.”

James stood, and as he shrugged out of the dinner jacket, he said, “If we’d waited two weeks, this would be a bank holiday weekend, you know.” He folded the dinner jacket over the back of the chair.

Q watched, feeling his interest pique all over again. He hummed in appreciation as James slowly removed the studs from his shirt. It took Q a moment to remember that James had even spoken. “A bank holiday. A bit ambitious of you, don’t you think? Or is that just your infamous arrogance talking?” he commented, keeping his tone light and teasing.

“Do we really want to get distracted with a philosophical discussion on truth versus arrogance?”

“No,” Alec answered bluntly, before turning to Q. “And there are two of us. We could keep you here for two bloody weeks and still not be done with you by the time someone noticed you weren’t at work.”

Q snorted as he turned to regard Alec. “It’s really quite amusing that you think no one would notice my absence after two weeks. I’m the head of Q Branch and one of the hardest working people in all of MI6. I give it half a day, _at most_.”

“Not after they get the ransom note postmarked... Where do you think, James? Antarctica? We’ve never done Antarctica.”

“I think you should stick with lighting things on fire and leave the more complex mission planning to me,” James said, laughing. He scattered shirt studs and cufflinks on the little table beside his armchair and slid the shirt over his shoulders.

Q’s answer was lost as he stared at James’ chest. He wanted to look — to admire — but his eyes locked to a scar on James’ right collarbone. The skin had been torn raggedly down off the bone, not cleanly, as with a knife, and then left to heal badly. The scarring was wrong for a werewolf’s bite... but not a vampire’s. He could just see a second scar under James’ left arm, perfectly positioned over the brachial artery — a bite location that could be fatal for a human if the vampire was careless.

Q opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat. Instantly, he understood. Alec wasn’t just worried about Q biting them; he was protecting James against... well, whatever horrors they’d gone through in their untold years together.

But Q had read their files, and there was no mention of James ever sustaining a vampire bite. So when had this happened? And if the two wolves had done everything together, why was Alec mark-free?

Q lifted a hand, as though to touch, but thought better of it, and pulled it back. “What happened to you?” he found himself softly asking.

James left his shirt on the chair and crossed the empty space in front of the sofa. Alec tensed but didn’t rise. James lifted his hand to touch Q’s face and gently said, “Nothing that’s going to happen tonight. You’ve earned my trust.”

Q let go of the breath he was holding in — the breath he hadn’t even known he’d taken. He turned his head to brush his lips against James’ hand — not to kiss, but just to feel. The spark lit a fire down his spine, and it took every last ounce of willpower he had not to reach out and pull James in for a searing kiss.

He turned his head up to lock eyes with James. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said, still quiet, but with a hard edge that betrayed his anger towards whoever hurt his wolf. “I will _never_ do that to you.”

And he wouldn’t. Regardless of what Q was or what he’d done in his very long life, there was no force on earth that could compel him to harm either of his two wolves. He was certain of it. His eyes flicked briefly over to Alec, and he hoped they _both_ understood that.

“We know,” James said, sliding his hand over Q’s jaw and into his hair. He tugged gently, brushing the strands aside, and closed the last few inches between them, leaning in to brush his face against Q’s with a quiet inhale. When he turned to touch his lips to Q’s throat, they both shivered.

“Oh, god,” Q whispered and closed his eyes. He ran his hands up James’ arms and along his neck to bury them in the short cropped hair. He arched his back away from the chair, pressing against James’ mouth.

James’ growl was full of satisfaction rather than threat. He lowered himself in front of the chair, pulling Q closer, to the very edge of the cushion. Q parted his legs to allow James to kneel up between his thighs. James’ lips slid across Q’s skin, and the tip of his tongue brushed over Q’s throat, making him hiss.

“Alec,” James said, his voice tight with strain, breath hot against Q’s neck.

Q heard Alec move off the sofa, but he couldn’t see without pulling away from James. As James found Q’s earlobe and licked again, tongue sweeping up along the curve, Q felt Alec take hold of one hand, freeing it from James’ hair.

Then Alec’s mouth was on him, lips pressed to the back of his hand. Alec’s fingers tightened before he licked, tasting Q’s skin. Something about Alec’s sharp, jagged exhale spoke of relief, and his next lick was less tentative. More indulgent.

Q desperately wanted to press up against James, but he held back. If he did, he knew this would move along far too quickly for his satisfaction. The feel of their tongues along his skin was simply too delicious to give up just yet.

Biting back a whimper, Q turned his wrist in Alec’s hand and brushed a finger lightly along Alec’s lips. With a sharp inhale, Alec caught Q’s finger between his teeth, holding gently as he pushed his tongue against Q’s fingertip.

It was like completing a circuit. With both wolves’ mouths touching his skin, a surge of electricity shot through him, and Q had to bite down to keep from crying out. As he pushed forward into James, chasing the fire that threatened to burn him from the inside out, his fangs instantly dropped down.

A wave of icy dread coursed through Q. Suddenly wary of just how _cornered_ he was, he jerked back in the chair — out of both wolves’ hands — and hastily covered his mouth. Did they know that his fangs were also a sign of arousal, not just aggression? What would happen if they didn’t?

James shot Alec a quick, questioning look and got a head-shake in return. “What is it? What’s wrong?” James asked, reaching up for Q’s hand. “Are you hurt?”

Q shook his head. “No, but... Please understand, it’s not what you think.” He lowered his hand and showed them his fangs.

Alec rose from his crouch, one hand falling protectively to James’ shoulder. But he didn’t shift — not even to put out his claws — and though he stared intently at Q’s fangs, he didn’t seem to be on the verge of attacking.

James covered Alec’s hand with his own. With his free hand, he touched Q’s arm. “Tell us,” he said quietly, meeting Q’s gaze.

Q looked back and forth between the two wolves and tried to rein in the unfamiliar fear he knew was in his eyes. “My fangs. They work off of emotional and physical stimuli. So while _you’ve_ probably only seen them when a vampire is intent on attacking you, they will also drop down when we’re... aroused.” He went still and prayed that whatever came next, came swiftly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Friday, 17 May 2013**

James refused to look at the hint of fangs pressing against Q’s closed lips. This was Q, his Quartermaster, his _friend_ , and he hadn’t lied when he’d said he trusted Q. He wasn’t an enemy. He wasn’t after their blood. He was barely even a proper vampire, whatever else he was — he didn’t smell like one, and he certainly didn’t taste like one.

“I’ve had stranger compliments before,” James said steadily, knowing he needed to be calm for Alec’s sake. Alec’s wolf was closer to the surface — it always had been — and he depended on James to keep him grounded in times of stress. And he knew that one wrong word could turn Q’s embarrassment into anger. James wasn’t going to let any of them get hurt because of a misunderstanding.

The tension in Q’s shoulders eased slightly, but he stayed where he was against the chair. “I really am sorry. I should have warned you first, especially after —” He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the couch. He glanced warily up at Alec. “Really, I truly am. Fangs or not, I meant it when I said I would never attack you.”

Alec’s fingers tightened. James caught Q’s hand and lifted it to his mouth again, though he quickly pulled away, before Q’s intoxicating scent could distract him. “None of us are human,” he said, looking first at Q, then up at Alec. “We’ll take this slowly. No more misunderstandings. Alec’s fur is as natural to him as your fangs are to you.”

Q nodded and slowly inched forward again, although he didn’t come as close to James as he had been earlier. He reached out tentatively to Alec, but stopped just short of actually touching him. “Alec, you asked me not that long ago if I was after your blood, and I said yes — that I wanted all of you. I meant that. I do want you. Both of you.” He glanced quickly at James. “But I won’t hurt you. I won’t take what isn’t mine.”

Alec wasn’t tense — not combat-tense, anyway — but he hadn’t relaxed, either. James could feel it in the way Alec’s fingers twitched. Without looking up again, James let go of Q’s hand and moved closer, touching his jaw. He felt the slightest hint of stubble over sharp bone, and he wondered again if that was why Q had been turned: for his beauty.

Slowly, he drew his fingers down to Q’s chin. Deep inside, James could feel the rising urge to let his wolf-self slip free, because his fingertips were centimetres from Q’s fangs. He could have his claws out before Q could blink.

Ruthlessly, he held himself under control as he lifted one finger to Q’s lip. He touched, feeling flesh that was cool but soft, yielding as if Q were still alive. Inside, he growled at the shadow of fangs not quite hidden by Q’s mouth, but he didn’t want to snarl and snap. He didn’t sense Q as a walking corpse.

Q, possibly sensing the importance of what James was doing, held himself completely still. Unlike before, though, he hadn’t gone inhumanly still. He blinked as he stared at James, and he took shallow breaths that hitched as James’ finger touched his lips. It was as though he was fascinated by the trust James was placing in him.

Hoping Alec felt the same way, James pushed gently. When Q’s lips parted, James eased his finger inside, struggling to hide the growing urge to pull his hand away. He didn’t touch Q’s fangs, but he knew they were there all the same.

Alec’s fingers dug into James’ shoulder until he felt the sharp edge of claws. Warily, James pulled his finger back from Q’s mouth, trying not to spook either of them by moving too fast. James had no idea what could set off a vampire’s bloodlust — not one as self-controlled as Q, at least — but a bleeding werewolf only inches away would probably be more than enough.

“See?” he said, not entirely steadily. “We’re all fine.”

“We’re all fine,” Q repeated, equally breathless. He placed his hand on James’ chest and gently pushed until James backed away. Then Q turned to face Alec expectantly and extended his hand. “Alec, please. I promise I won’t hurt you.” He made a show of pulling his fangs back in, though he winced as he did, as if it were a struggle to do so.

James touched Alec’s hand again, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Alec drew back his claws. Alec let go of James and took Q’s hand in both of his, holding very lightly. He moved one hand along Q’s arm, and they both shivered. With a quiet exhale, Alec lowered his head and brushed his face against Q’s fingertips, closing his eyes as he breathed in.

The tense knot inside James broke apart. He knelt up and set his hands on Q’s legs, feeling the tight, sleek muscles under the denim. Careful not to dislodge his hand from Alec, Q spread his legs and closed the distance until he was practically flush with James. Leaning in, James indulged in rubbing his face against Q’s hair before he whispered, “See what you do to us?”

Q wrapped his free arm around James’ shoulders and slid his hand up to scratch at James’ scalp. “No more than what you do to me,” he whispered back, turning his head to press his lips against the shell of James’ ear.

James flinched; this was wrong — horribly, terribly _wrong_ — but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting more, like some human addicted to heroin. Hating himself, he turned his head to encourage Q’s explorations. The touch of his lips was like lightning crawling over James’ skin, making him want to pull away and claw Q for daring to touch — making him want to pin Q to the chair and _take_.

Q sighed as he dragged his lips up and down James’ ear. He continued to scratch his nails along James’ scalp, but he never pulled. Never dug in. As his lips pressed into the shell of James’ ear, Q quickly flicked his tongue out. The spark of electricity made him visibly shiver, and he exhaled a low whimper into James’ ear.

He rested his head against James’, taking deep breaths as his fingers spread out through James’ hair. “God, I want you,” he said softly, his words broken. “Both of you. Now.”

“Up. Move,” Alec said, giving James a push back so he could tug Q up off the chair. James stepped away and rose, giving Alec and Q room. Alec pulled Q against his chest and scratched still-human nails over his shoulders.

Q shivered and reached up to tangle his fingers in Alec’s longer hair. He leaned in to lick along the shell of Alec’s ear, just as he’d done with James.

When Alec pulled Q closer and bent his head to nuzzle at Q’s throat, James finally allowed himself to relax. He crowded behind Q and worked his hands around Q’s body, searching for his flies. The feel of cool, bare skin against his chest threatened to wreck his self-control all over again, and he fumbled just to get the button at Q’s waistband undone.

They had to take this slow. James knew he was the more rational werewolf, and if Q had him this close to the edge, Alec had to be on the verge of breaking. It took effort for James to lift his head from Q’s soft hair. He pushed one hand back against Alec’s body, trying to put some space between him and Q, and Alec snarled in return.

Q stiffened for barely a second before relaxing again. He turned his head to regard James. “Is there a problem, 007?”

James wanted to tell him to slow down. He wanted to say they all needed breathing room — a chance to think. He looked at Q and at Alec, whose eyes had gone completely gold, and the building lust hit him all at once.

“Clothes,” James growled out, curling his hands into Q’s waistband. Fabric tore under his claws.

Q gasped and fell back against James’ chest. Still holding onto Alec with one hand, Q reached back to grip James’ hip with the other. He toed off his shoes and kicked them in the general direction of the sofa. He let go of James and laughed, pulling himself back against Alec.

He glanced over his shoulder at James and grinned, his green eyes almost black with desire. “Don’t stop there, 007. Pants, too, if you must.”

James’ hesitation lasted only long enough for him to remind himself that Q wasn’t human. He wouldn’t be bruised or hurt the way a human might be. With a growl of satisfaction, he pulled sharply down, claws tearing through denim. Keeping his fingers curled to avoid even touching Q’s skin, he dropped to his knees behind Q, shredding the remains of his jeans. Q’s bare legs were too enticing to resist; James leaned in to rub his face over Q’s thigh, under the hem of his pants, and lifted his hands to Q’s pants. They were already low on his hips — a single tug would drop them — and though a quiet, distant voice was still urging him to go slow, his desire was too strong to hold back. He drew the fabric down, indulging in a brush of his fingers over the curve of Q’s arse, down his thighs, to the backs of his knees. Then James rose, pressed against Q’s body, and the power crawling over his skin made him growl again.

“Bed,” Alec said, perhaps hearing the demand in James’ growl. He took one step back, pulling Q with him, away from the remains of his clothes.

“Alec, one moment.” Q held onto Alec as he reached down to slip his socks off, dropping them onto the remains of his jeans. As he stood back up, he snickered. “You know, when I became Quartermaster, they told me to keep an emergency overnight kit in my car. Never imagined I’d need it for this.”

“Who says we’re letting you near your bloody car?” Alec demanded, giving Q’s hand a tug as he took another step back. James gave Q a helpful push and hesitated long enough to kick off his own shoes, heedless of the scuff marks he left.

“Oh, that won’t matter,” Q said. “Since James ripped my jeans off — quite literally, in fact — I suspect it will be one of _you_ who goes down to retrieve my kit.”

Satisfaction coiled through James. He gave up on his own trousers to press against Q’s back. “That means you’re ours.” He lowered his head to Q’s shoulder and resisted the urge to bite, indulging instead in a lick that tasted like lightning.

Q hummed as he slowed down, forcing James to press even closer. “Am I now.”

Resistance only lasted so long. James bit, keeping himself carefully human as he sank his teeth into the muscle at the base of Q’s neck.

“Oh, _fuck_.” Q tensed but didn’t pull away. He went completely still, not even breathing.

James nearly pulled away at the jarring reminder that Q was dead, but this seemed to be Q’s response to anything new or overwhelming. As the bite deepened, Q hissed in satisfaction.

“You’re distracting him,” Alec complained, sliding a hand behind Q’s back. His claws found James’ trousers, cutting cleanly through his leather belt. James would’ve thought it an accident, except those claws never touched skin, and werewolves — at least when they were alone — were never that careful during sex.

James released the bite and snarled without any real anger. “You owe me a new belt,” he said, giving Q a deliberately hard push that made Alec stumble backwards, arms tightening around Q for balance.

“Alec, be nice,” Q scolded, although there was no real threat in it. “ _One_ of us needs at least some semblance of clothing to leave here in. And I’d be willing to bet you found some way to show up exactly like that.”

“Did you forget what we are?” Alec asked with a dark, quiet laugh. He stepped back, turned, and dove for the bed in a move that would have been ridiculous, if he’d stayed human. He landed in a haze of pale white fur, twisting to face Q and James as he settled down on the mattress.

Wary that Q might interpret Alec’s shift as a threat, James said lightly, “Now he’s got fur all over the bloody sheets. Should I get us a private room?”

Q leaned back against him and ran his hands up James’ hips. “I don’t think we’ll need a private room. That couch looks comfortable enough to fuck on.”

James wrapped his arms around Q’s body, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he indulged in the feeling of his skin and power. His hands slid low over Q’s body until his fingertips brushed soft hair.

On the bed, Alec rolled onto his back and eased smoothly into human form with the sort of grace James still couldn’t manage, even after seventy years. “Only if I can watch,” he said, tipping his head back to look upside-down at Q. He raised one arm to pillow his head; with the other, he reached down, fingers curling over his thigh. Despite the enticing vampire in his arms, James couldn’t help but watch. Bastard that he was, Alec _knew_ how good he looked, sprawled on display like that, without even a hint of modesty.

There was a faint tearing sound as Q’s fingers dug into the side of James’ trousers. “Oops,” he whispered, his eyes trained on Alec. “Maybe we _should_ chalk all of our clothes up to a bad job and be done with it.”

James laughed, the sound rough, and considered shifting out of his ruined clothes. But his shifts took seconds, not a single heartbeat, and he refused to be so awkward in front of Q. “We’ll send him shopping for us tomorrow,” he said, nuzzling at Q’s neck. The scent helped ease his old, familiar jealousy, reminding him that Q wanted them both — not just Alec.

“ _We_ will?” Alec challenged, smirking. “ _We_ aren’t doing a fucking thing if you don’t bring Q here right the fuck now.”

“So _demanding_ ,” Q murmured with a smile. He pulled out of James’ grasp and pushed off to walk over to the bed. He stepped up onto the mattress and pivoted, putting himself directly over Alec. Q looked down at him and cocked his head. “May I?”

James saw the way Alec tensed, not to attack but to grab at Q, to pull him down. Deliberately, though, Alec drew his other hand back, trailing his fingers up to his chest before he tucked both hands under his head. He looked back long enough to meet James’ eyes and said, “Stop fucking around, James.” Then he turned his smile on Q and said, “Best hurry before James remembers how to take off his own pants without claws.”

Q lowered himself to straddle Alec’s hips and leaned over, pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of Alec’s head. As they locked eyes, he smiled wickedly, and said, “He’s right, James. You’re taking far too long.”

The trousers were ruined. James pulled them off roughly, and Alec let out a low, contented growl, a sound that James felt in his bones, urging him to hurry. He used a clawed hand to shred his pants as he started for the bed, pausing only long enough to strip off his socks.

This wasn’t new for the two werewolves. They shared more lovers than they took alone, because they were too close not to feel the wrongness of being apart. But only rarely were those lovers supernatural — feral wolves couldn’t understand their dynamic, and city wolves were put off by Alec’s wild side. So they’d got used to being gentle when a third shared their bed, keeping their claws hidden and strength reined in.

Now, though, James could indulge.

He threw himself onto the bed, tackling Q off Alec. Q hissed, a sharp, visceral reaction that spiked adrenaline through James’ blood, but James was still moving too fast to stop and back off. _Not a threat_ , he told himself as he wrapped his arms around Q and buried his face in Q’s hair. Behind Q, Alec snarled in protest and rolled close, trapping Q between the two wolves, and it was almost too much, almost overwhelming. Q’s battle-ready tension turned into the sharp crackle of heat and need. For the first time, James allowed himself to forget Q’s fangs and his corpse-cold skin and let himself revel in the sleek muscles and hard length of his cock trapped between their bodies.

 

~~~

 

Q closed his eyes and fought against the panic at being caught between two werewolves. This was what he _wanted_. There was no room for fear now.

He felt his fangs drop down, but did nothing to pull them back in this time. James had said he trusted Q. And regardless of the danger that always seemed to be burning along the edges of Alec, he at least trusted James. Q didn’t need to fear retribution for simply being himself.

Q pressed up against James and licked along the underside of his jaw. The spike of arousal he felt at the heady taste of werewolf on his tongue helped calm his anxiety. At some point, he really would need to find a way to tie one of them down, just for the simple pleasure of licking every inch of their bodies. Q shivered at the thought of it.

Alec growled in his ear and nudged at his nape, bowing his head forward. James took advantage and licked up Q’s throat to his jaw. A rough hand moved down over Q’s side to his hip, holding him steady. As Alec’s teeth closed over Q’s nape, he rolled his spine and thrust his hips, cock nestled between Q’s thighs, hard and full of living heat, pushing Q’s hips against James’ body. James twisted and got a hand between them, around Q’s cock, and stroked slowly down. Q bit back a whimper and tried not to push up into James’ hand.

“We have all night, Alec,” James said as Alec thrust again, harder this time. Alec growled without releasing his bite and thrust insistently.

Q wanted to reiterate James’ sentiment, but the feel of Alec’s cock between his legs and James’ hand around his own length was too overwhelming. He had to resist the sudden desperate urge to tip his head down and sink his teeth into the soft flesh of James’ neck.

He bit back a hiss as he fought to regain some semblance of self-control. Their trust had been too hard won to lose now. He closed his eyes, took a slow, steadying breath, and leaned back against Alec’s chest, away from James’ tempting pulse and the overwhelming desire to _take_.

“Alec,” he gasped, needy, his voice shaky from the sensory overload. He reached a hand back to cup the curve of Alec’s arse. “James is right. We have as long as we want.”

Alec dragged his teeth free, releasing Q’s flesh just before the bite could turn painful. “Do you want me to stop?” he demanded, reaching around Q’s body. His hand nudged James’ fingers up, making room for him to take hold of Q’s cock. Another push drew James’ hand up just enough to send sparks racing through Q’s body.

Q’s mind shuttered as he tried to form a coherent thought to Alec’s question. “I never said _stop_. But unless —” He cut off with a groan that was almost embarrassing as Alec’s hips thrust forward and his hand moved in tandem with James’ along Q’s cock. The feel of the two werewolves pressed against him, all hard muscle and skin scorching with life and power, already had him tipped too close to the edge.

“Fucking hell,” James grated out, and slid down a few inches. He trapped Q’s legs under one of his own and thrust against Q’s thigh, without stopping the slow, demanding motion of his hand. With a low growl, he bit at Q’s collarbone, reminding Q of the scar that some other vampire — a vampire that _wasn’t_ Q — had left on James. Regardless of the fact that the mark on James was probably left in a vicious attack, Q still inwardly crowed with satisfaction that James was imitating that same mark on _him_.

“No, Alec. Don’t you _dare_ stop.” Q squeezed Alec’s arse to draw him closer. He pushed his other arm out to wrap his fingers around James’ nape and draw him closer as well. Q revelled in the fact that _he_ was their focus. Werewolves hated vampires as a general rule, but not here. Not with him. They weren’t just seeking their pleasure in Q; they were seeking pleasure _for_ Q.

Everything they gave, he took, throwing himself into the sensation until all rational thought was gone. In all his years, out of all the lovers he’d had, he’d never felt this _close_ to one, let alone two. His werewolves touched him everywhere until he felt some echo of their warmth sink into his body. It was a sensation he hadn’t experienced since the days of his human existence. And in that moment, it was something he wasn’t sure he could ever let go.

He had no idea which of them came first. One growl was echoed by a second, and both werewolves bit. The power crawling over Q’s skin flared wildly. He gave in to their hands and bodies and heat, snapping his jaws shut to keep from biting either of them in return. For long, blissful minutes, the force of it left him dazed and utterly spent, his thoughts slowed to a complete standstill.

He came back to himself under the feeling of warm tongues and soft lips. Alec alternated between bites and licks over Q’s nape, slow and lazy, while James kissed along Q’s jaw. He didn’t remember James ever moving back up the mattress.

“You know, for no actual fucking, that was...” Q smiled in utter contentment, not bothering to finish his train of thought. He brushed his hand down Alec’s thigh as he dragged his other hand up to scratch against James’ scalp. Tentatively, he leaned over and nipped James ear, making sure his fangs never came in contact.

“It all counts as fucking,” James said with a shiver, wrapping Q in his arms.

Alec huffed a quiet laugh that tickled over Q’s nape. “I take it the two of you are going to be lazy?”

“Sod off,” James said, lifting his head to look over Q’s shoulder.

“Right.” Alec nuzzled at Q’s hair so he could brush the strands aside and lay a bite on his ear. “Don’t let him run off.”

Q hummed, but it broke off with a soft laugh. “And which of us are you referring to?”

“Both.” Alec pushed away, mattress rocking gently under his weight. Q turned, feeling the loss of Alec’s body warmth, and watched as skin blurred under fur. The wolf trotted to the door, where he stepped on a lever just above the floor, in line with the handle. The lock disengaged, and Alec nosed the door open just enough to slip out into the hallway.

“He does that,” James said, pulling Q back into his arms. As the door clicked closed, James said, “He’ll run in the park for a little while. Then he’ll come back, wanting more.”

“Why?” He pushed James onto his back and crawled on top of him. “Is it the feral wolf in him?”

James settled comfortably, running his hands up and down Q’s thighs in long, lazy strokes. “Something like that. He wants to let go, but he can’t, except with another werewolf. He wasn’t about to take out his claws with you.”

Q waited for the instinct to go still at the thought of Alec’s claws anywhere near him. He was surprised when it didn’t come. He searched James' face for some sign of reticence before asking, “Would he actually hurt me? If his claws did come out?”

Instead of answering right away, James took a deep breath, moving his hands up to Q’s hips. “He’s careful not to let it get that far when it’s not safe. He won’t hurt you. You’ve earned our trust, remember?”

“I do, but that’s not what I meant.” Q sighed in frustration. He didn’t know much about feral wolves who’d attempted to become civilised. Alec was something of an enigma. A very dangerous one. “I know I’ve earned your trust. You’ve earned mine. But if I give Alec permission to let go... Can he be trusted with himself?”

James’ fingers tightened on Q’s hips. “I won’t let him hurt you like that. He wouldn’t forgive himself, after,” he said, his voice dropping to a protective growl. “You have no idea how good you smell. How good you _taste_. It’s hard enough to keep myself fully human.”

Q looked down at James thoughtfully. It hadn’t occurred to him until this moment that he’d never seen James in wolf form — at least not live. He’d caught glimpses of it on CCTV footage from a few of James’ missions as well as full photos in his personnel files, but that was it.

The corner of his mouth twitched up in a half-smile, and he leaned over James to place a light kiss on his throat. “Is that something you’d let me see?” he said softly along James’ neck. “Your wolf form? Alec has shown me his. When are you going to show me yours?”

A human wouldn’t have noticed James’ tension, but Q felt the subtle increase in his heart rate. “I have absolutely no desire to move at the moment. Or to let you move.” He slid his hands further up, ticklishly skimming Q’s sides, before he flattened his palms against Q’s back to hold him in place. “You have a gorgeous body.”

Q smiled against James’ skin before letting his teeth skim along the side of James’ neck, up to his ear. Only then did he notice that his fangs were no longer out. Certain that he wouldn’t hurt James — not like this — he bit down fractionally harder than he had before. With a sharp inhale, James tightened his fingers against Q’s back, but he kept his claws in. He turned his head encouragingly and growled, body shifting under Q’s weight.

Q let go of James’ ear, only to slide down and bite just below it. He knew how hard he could press before he broke skin. When James still didn’t pull away, Q moved his hand to wrap around the side of James’ head and hold him close.

After only a moment — mindful of the trust James had placed in him — Q backed off to lick and kiss at the mark he’d just left. He leaned back to admire his work, grinning at the indentations his teeth had left. _Only_ indentations.

Q slid his hands down James’ shoulders before lifting his head to face James. He was close enough to kiss him, if he had a mind to. But he found it fascinating that they hadn’t yet, and was curious to see how long they’d hold out. Breathing into James’ mouth, he said, “Thank you for the compliment. I find you exquisite.”

“Of course you do,” the cocky bastard answered, grinning up at Q. “You have since that first day. Our public meeting in a safe place.” He laughed quietly, wickedly. “Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to pin you to the wall beside that blasted painting and bite you until there was no question that you were mine? Would you have let me?”

Q grinned complacently at James. “No, actually. But only because the feeling was mutual. After we shook hands — after _touching_ you — I had half a mind to sod off the whole mission and fuck you right there over the bench.”

James’ eyes widened — barely, just enough for Q to see — and energy seemed to crackle to life between them. Q heard the werewolf’s heart beat strong and fast, a combat-ready reflex that James held in check as best he could. His claws were in, but there was the faintest hint of gold in his blue eyes.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” Q grinned avariciously at him, feeling new desire begin to stir, low and hot.

“I’d like to see you try,” James challenged, nails scraping over Q’s skin.

Q’s grin went from lustful to sly. The wolves were strong, but Q was _fast_. Hoping to catch James off guard, Q grabbed him by the shoulders, planted a foot on the mattress and pushed off. He twisted around, using James’ body weight to propel them, and slammed the wolf’s back into the ivy-covered wall. Leaves rained down around them. He crowded close and asked, “Something like that?”

Breathing hard, eyes pure gold now, James lifted his hand slowly. His claws were out, sharp-edged and heavy, strong enough to tear through metal. But before Q could draw breath to speak, the claws receded, and James reached out to touch Q’s face.

“Something like that,” the werewolf agreed, the words almost lost under a deep growl that Q felt all the way down to his bones. He touched the tip of one finger to Q’s lower lip, pressing gently.

Q opened his mouth and licked, enjoying the taste and electric current that radiated off of James’ skin. He studied James’ expression, searching for any sign of reticence or anger, but all he saw was hunger behind deep gold.

If he admitted anything to himself, it would be that he loved the way his wolves’ eyes changed for him. He knew that, like his fangs, the colour wasn’t dictated purely by a need to fight or defend. Lust and want had just the same effect. His cock twitched in renewed interest, and he dipped his head to take James’ finger in his mouth as he ground his hips forward. They both inhaled sharply at the delicious friction of their lengths sliding together.

With a quick, breathless growl, James pushed his finger deeper into Q’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue. “Show me,” he whispered, biting out the words. “I need to feel your mouth, Q.”

Q stuttered for a second at the words. It was one thing to rut against each other and fuck each other, but it was something else to allow their mouths anywhere _near_ each other. For James to trust him _that much_...

Q slowly pulled away from James’ finger. “Is that really what you want?”

James’ nod was quick. Rough. “Start slow.” He touched Q’s lip again, tracing out towards the corner of his mouth. “I need to know if we can do this. Other werewolves —” He cut off, shaking his head. “Alec and I have never been with a vampire.”

Q couldn’t help giving James a smug grin at the idea that _he_ was their first. He knew that, for the most part, werewolves hated being around his kind, but there were exceptions. Q’s own history was a prime example of that. He himself had been with a werewolf or two, a long time ago. But this was different. They hadn’t _trusted_ him. Not the way James, and possibly Alec, seemed to.

“I’ll go slow,” Q promised and leaned in to briefly kiss the underside of James’ jaw. He slid his legs back and started crawling down James’ body, leisurely brushing his lips along golden skin. He came to rest on the vampire scar just over James’ collarbone.

James instantly went tense, and a low growl of warning slipped out. Q heard fabric tear as James’ claws came out, digging into the mattress. He lifted his head to glance at James, who was staring down at him, ready to attack.

“James. Do you want me to stop?”

For a few seconds, James said nothing. Then he closed his eyes and said, “Careful. Keep going.”

Q eyed the claws warily but continued moving down James’ chest, kissing and licking over tanned, flawless skin. As he trailed his fingertips along James’ sides, he carefully flattened his hand to avoid brushing the scar on the underside of James’ left arm. He wanted to run his mouth along the area, taste the skin that was marked by a vampire that _wasn’t_ him, but James was already too close. He was fighting to allow Q this access to his body — trusting a vampire, where others had only hurt him. Q told himself that one day he would catalogue every one of James’ scars with his tongue, but not tonight.

When he reached James’ hips, he turned his head and ducked down to nuzzle in the soft patch of blond hair at the base of James’ barely-hard cock. He turned his head back towards James’ thigh, only to find himself staring at _another_ vampire bite. Like the one inside James’ arm, this one would have probably been fatal to a human; unlike that other scar, though, this was intimate. Private. Where a vampire would feed from a willing lover. James had said he and Alec had never been with another vampire, and Q had to swallow down a hiss as rage and possessiveness seared through him in equal measure.

He pushed up on his hands and took a steadying breath. The need to mark James for his own was too intense. He would _not_ break James’ trust. Not now.

He felt a touch on his hair. James’ fingers, no longer clawed, combed through the strands. “Q?”

Q kept his distance from the scar, but didn’t look away. “May I ask what happened here?”

“SMERSH. Lubyanka Prison, 1956.” James kept petting Q; it felt gentle but too rhythmic, too precise, as if he were on autopilot. “We were there for three weeks.”

Q finally couldn’t help the hiss that escaped his lips. Someone had bit James, damaged him. Made him wary of Q, when all Q wanted to do was mark James and Alec as his own _with_ their permission.

He closed his eyes and told himself to calm down. It had happened over fifty years before, when neither werewolf had even been on his radar. Careful not to dislodge James’ hand, he finally looked up. “Did you kill the bitch?”

There wasn’t a hint of humour in the way James bared his teeth. “Thirteen years later. But yes. They’re all dead.” He looked towards his scarred left arm. “We made certain of that.”

“Good,” Q hissed out with barely concealed anger. He kept staring at James until he caught the wolf’s eye. “Nobody fucking touches you.”

Q had no warning — not a flicker in James’ eyes, not a twitch of his muscles. One moment, James was watching him, still stroking his hair; the next, his fist clenched, and he moved with inhuman speed. Leaves flew everywhere, and Q’s back hit the mattress. James’ weight hit Q’s chest, pinning him.

“Let’s get back to _you_ touching me. Shall we?” he asked, untangling his hand from Q’s hair. He flattened his palms on the wall, bracing himself up over Q, and looked down with a challenging grin.

Q didn’t hesitate — and tempting as the sight of James’ body was, he was determined to not let his werewolf keep the upper hand. Faster than James could follow, Q twisted out from under him and caught hold of one arm, pulling James up onto his knees. Bracing against the mattress, Q shoved James back against the vines, feeling the strength in James’ taut muscles as his body tried to resist.

But James didn’t attack. He growled, claws out, but instead of striking at Q, he held himself back. Q heard a sharp _crack_ and looked down to see chunks of plaster and leaves fall from the wall where James’ claws had dug in. When James finally did move, it was to spread his knees to get comfortable, allowing Q even closer against him.

Relieved that James would keep himself in check — that Q hadn’t pushed too far — he flattened his palm against James’ chest and held him against the wall. “Stay,” he ordered before slithering back down to settle between James’ thighs. He wrapped his fingers around James’ hips and proceeded to lick a long stripe up the inside of James’ undamaged thigh.

James let out a sharp exhale, muscles going tight under Q’s hands and mouth. “Fuck, Q,” he grated out. More leaves fell as his hands twitched, but he didn’t push Q away or grab for his hair or try to take back control.

Vicious satisfaction coiled inside Q’s body like an electric charge. A vampire had trapped James, hurt him, left him scarred and wary, but he trusted Q. He _wanted_ this from Q. Slowly, sensually, Q licked again. He was determined to prove himself worthy of that trust — determined to prove that James was _his_ werewolf.


	7. Chapter 7

**Friday, 17 May 2013**

Alec forced himself to do three circuits of the park, despite every instinct screaming for him to go back to James — to _protect_ James from the vampire that they’d chosen. His casual departure had fooled them both, but James would figure it out eventually. Alec wanted nothing more than to stay, to defend James from Q, which was why he’d had no choice but to leave. Even if it killed him.

Seventy years of civilised living, with bespoke suits and walled gardens and dinners of rare steaks served on plates, had yet to touch Alec deep inside. He was only truly alive when he was in his fur. Running wild in the night, claws on bare earth, had never failed to bring him comfort — until now.

Frustrated with himself, he finally went back to the hotel, back to the room. He shook himself, ears to tail, and then stepped on the low door handle. When the door swung open, he trotted inside and froze for a single heartbeat, hackles rising. James was kneeling up at the head of the bed, back pressed to the wall, claws digging into the plaster as he stared down at Q with eyes gone completely gold. And Q was lying between James’ legs, licking at the inside of his thigh, right opposite the scar where James had been fed on for _weeks_.

MI6 taught Alec to give no warning before he killed, but he couldn’t suppress the growl that rose up inside him. His claws dug gouges in the hardwood floor as he raced for the bed. The world narrowed down to Q’s spine, sharp bones pressed up against pale skin. One bite and this would _end_.

Alec’s paws hit the mattress, and James ripped his claws from the wall to grab at Q. But instead of helping Alec, holding Q down for Alec to finish him off, he swiped at Q’s body to throw him out of the way.

With no hope of stopping, Alec slammed into James, paws scrabbling on the bedclothes, tearing through sheets and into the mattress. Still focused on his target, Alec twisted, bringing down a part of the vine-covered framework over the bed. Q slammed into the wall and hit the floor.

As Alec gathered himself to lunge at Q, James let out a vicious snarl. He kicked off the wall and threw himself against Alec’s body, taking him down. Alec bit without thinking, fangs grazing over a bulky, fur-covered shoulder, and they rolled together from the mattress to the floor.

Startled at James’ hybrid form, Alec hesitated. He paid for that instant’s uncertainty with a yelp as James threw him across the room, into the sofa. The furniture shattered under his weight; wood splinters pulled out tufts of his fur.

Trapped in a blind fury, Alec scrambled to his feet and went for James, who’d dropped to all fours to complete his shift. The two wolves crashed together in the centre of the room, growling and snarling. Given a new, clear target, Alec forgot about the vampire entirely and focused on taking James down. _Why_ they were fighting hardly mattered. Even though James knew all of his tricks, Alec was stronger, more comfortable in his fur. He won these fights almost every time.

But not this time. James caught him with a low attack, and when Alec backed away, he hit the remains of the sofa and nearly tripped. The instant of lost balance was all James needed. A single lunge threw Alec to his back. James’ fangs sank into Alec’s throat.

Alec snarled and writhed, kicking with all fours, but James had him. Heart pounding from the exertion, Alec made himself go still and let his head fall back. The fight had burned the tension out of him in a way that the run hadn’t. This close, he could smell the lingering traces of arousal and lust clinging to James’ fur, and he felt himself relax even more.

He expected James to let go. To step back and give Alec room so they could both shift. James was too human at his core; sex was something for skin, not fur. But James’ jaws were locked in place, every exhale a low growl.

“James. Let him go.” Q’s voice came from the other side of the room, breathless but with the hint of command he usually saved for the comms.

 _Q_.

It took Alec a terribly long moment to remember exactly what had set off his killing rage. He bit back a whimper, realising there was nothing worse he could’ve done. Q would despise him for this. James would _abandon_ him.

He could feel the effort it took for James to open his mouth and back away. Blood trickled through Alec’s fur. Werewolf bites were far worse than claw wounds; it would take hours for the bleeding to stop and days to start healing. Alec twisted off his back but didn’t rise. Miserable, he dropped his muzzle to the floor, barely even breathing. For seventy years, James had run at his side. They’d shared blood. He couldn’t even think of a future — of _immortality_ — without James.

 

~~~

 

Q stayed backed against the wall, not daring to breathe. If he’d had a heartbeat, it would’ve been racing right now.

It didn’t take him long to parse out what had happened. Alec and James hadn’t even stopped fighting before Q realised what had gone wrong. Alec had come in to find Q’s mouth pressed to James’ thigh. To someone who didn’t know better, it could easily have been mistaken for a vampire attack.

But seeing Alec down on the ground as he was, Q couldn’t feel anything but heartbroken for the wolf. Alec didn’t _understand_ , and he’d done the only thing he thought was right in the moment: He’d attacked Q.

Q wanted to go to him— to comfort him — but Alec was bleeding. Q could see the bloom of red staining his white fur. One breath and Q would smell the blood, and his self-control might well snap. Human blood, he could resist, but werewolf blood was intoxicating. Overwhelming. Alec had been wrong when he’d come after Q. He didn’t want to give Alec a reason to be right.

But Q needed air to speak, so he warily took a shallow breath, prepared to stop the instant he felt his self-control slip... which didn’t happen. Oh, the blood-smell hit, and he _wanted_ , but it was no struggle at all for Q to hold himself back.

Now wasn’t the time to puzzle it out, though. Instead, he gazed steadily at the clearly chastened wolf and asked, “Alec, are you all right?”

Alec didn’t twitch; his attention was focused entirely on the darker brown and grey wolf standing over him. It was James who turned to look at Q before he backed away from Alec. He ducked his head and rubbed his bloody muzzle against his own front legs, filling the air with a rich scent that tested Q’s self-control. James licked his fur clean and rubbed his muzzle on his legs again and again, until the lighter fur around his muzzle was clean. The whole time, Alec didn’t move. He barely even breathed.

James stepped close to Alec again and lowered his head. He licked at Alec’s muzzle once. Then he turned and walked slowly towards Q.

Q held up a hand. “Please stop. The smell... I can’t take the risk.”

With a quiet whine, James stopped. He slid his forelegs forward and lowered himself to the floor, ears perked forward, attention fixed on Q. With one paw, he slapped the floor, claws scraping over the wood as if beckoning.

Q shook his head and stayed where he was. He desperately wanted to go to James, but he had no clue if he would be doing it to diffuse the situation or to attack. He needed to stay where he was, at least for a few more moments.

He looked from one wolf to the other, imploringly. “I’m sorry, but there’s blood. I don’t know why I’m not attacking you both, but I’d rather not take the chance. And with you both in wolf form... If I come to you now, I can’t guarantee I won’t give Alec a legitimate reason to try and rip my throat out. I don’t want that. For me or for him.”

James pulled his paw back and looked over his shoulder at Alec, who was half-hidden by the remains of the couch. With a shudder that made his light fur ripple, Alec got unsteadily to his feet and went for the door.

Panicked, Q rushed for the hallway door to cut Alec off before he could leave. “Alec, _no_ ,” he commanded. Advertising his intent, he lowered himself slowly into a crouch to get eye-level with Alec, who went absolutely still. Q was no expert at wolf body language, but the way Alec’s head and tail hung down screamed of guilt and remorse. “It was a mistake, Alec. An accident. You don’t get to punish yourself for trying to defend your friend.”

Alec stared at Q for a few seconds before he turned and went into the bathroom in the corner. Once inside, he kicked the door shut. James rose and started towards Q again with a soft growl that didn’t sound threatening. He kept his gold eyes fixed on Q’s and stopped when he was a handspan away. As a wolf, James was Alec’s height but lanky, without the same bulky muscle and fur that made Alec so intimidating — not that Q thought for a moment James was harmless.

Moving more slowly now, James pushed his muzzle against Q’s hand, tipping up to quickly lick Q’s fingers before he dropped his head again. Tentatively — and still not breathing — Q brushed his fingers along the coarse fur between his ears. He smiled at the way James pushed hard against his hand, encouraging him to continue.

Q pressed into the fur, running his hand against the hardness of James’ skull. He luxuriated in the feel of wolf fur between his fingers, a light tickling combined with an electric surge that seemed to only come from touching his werewolf.

Q looked down affectionately at James. He couldn’t help but notice the way James was taking care of _him_ , as opposed to going after his oldest friend. Someone needed to go check on Alec, but after what had happened, Q felt the other wolf deserved a moment of privacy.

Without lifting his hand from James’ fur, Q crouched down again to meet his eyes. “You like this, don’t you. Why you and not Alec? Should I be worried about this, too?”

James shook his head and stepped forward to nudge his muzzle against Q’s cheek. Then he licked, hot and _very_ wet, from Q’s jaw to his eyebrow. His breath huffed out in what had to be a laugh.

Q ran his hand back over the top of James’ head before reaching around to cup his cheek. He scratched lightly behind his wolf’s ear and said softly, “Someone needs to go to Alec. He was only trying to protect you. And I didn’t know this was possible for a wolf, but he looked devastated afterwards.”

James nodded, rubbing his muzzle against Q’s arm. Then he took a step back and slowly opened his mouth, baring his fangs. He locked his eyes to Q’s as he set his teeth around Q’s wrist.

Q jerked back and fell over. “ _What are you doing?_ ” he demanded with a hiss.

James whined, ducking his forelegs and chest to the floor. He wagged his tail once, still staring up at Q, but Q refused to move. He stared back at the wolf, confused. It took several unforgivably long seconds for Q to realise that James hadn’t been trying to bite him. He was simply trying to take hold of him.

Embarrassed — because, really, he should have known better — Q quirked his mouth up in a half-smile and extended his hand. “Be gentle,” he said wryly.

James’ tail wagged again as he stood back up and took hold of Q’s wrist. He tugged, walking backwards, leading Q back towards the bed. He let go when they were at the mattress and circled around behind Q, who turned to look over his shoulder. Casually, James leaned against the backs of Q’s legs, and despite his immortal strength, Q’s knees buckled. He dropped to the mattress, hands out to keep from landing face-first.

Then the damned werewolf jumped onto his back and laid on top of him, heavy enough that a human’s ribs would’ve cracked from the strain. Q fought his instinctual need to throw James off. Instead, he braced his hands against the mattress to steady himself under the weight, and turned to look over his shoulder again at the wolf. “Was there something that you wanted? You know, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. There’s no need to — James, stop it!” Q started laughing as James licked up the side of his face again. He wondered if this was what it was like to own a dog. He was pleasantly surprised to find he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.

But James didn’t stop, forcing Q to finally surrender and bury his face in his arms. Foiled for the moment, James shifted on top of him as though settling more comfortably. Then he huffed out a hot breath over Q’s nape, tickling him.

His next shift felt strange, though, as if he suddenly weighed less. Q lifted his head and saw powerfully muscled forearms — not forelegs, but arms, covered with grey-brown fur, ending in sharp claws. Q held back a flinch at the idea of a wolf in hybrid form being that close to his neck, and he reminded himself that hybrid form was _less_ dangerous than full wolf. But as James pushed back up to straddle Q, he suddenly felt no fur at all — only warm, human skin.

“You’re back, I see,” Q said and turned his head to look up into blue eyes that only held the faintest hint of gold.

“I never left.” James set his hands on the mattress and slid back down so he could kiss Q’s ear. “I’m sorry. That never should have happened.”

Q settled comfortably onto the mattress, pillowing his hands underneath his head. “Honestly, James, can you blame him? Look at that scar on your other leg. Can you really tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing if the situation was reversed? Or, at the very least, _thought_ the same thing?”

“He knows better.” James rolled onto his side, though he kept one arm and leg thrown over Q’s body. Q turned his head to face him. “You test our self-control. It’s too easy to lose ourselves in you. For him, that means what you saw.”

“Then starting anything without him here was a bad idea.”

James huffed, rubbing his hand up Q’s spine to toy with his hair. “He’s the one who bloody well chose to leave.”

“James, stop it. I’m not angry. I’m...” Q huffed as he tried not to laugh. “I’m still here, aren’t I? I don’t really see what the problem is.”

“That’s very... rational of you,” James said slowly. “The fight settled things for us, but you’re not a wolf. Alec’s probably twisting himself in knots trying to come up with a way to apologise to you.”

Q huffed again, but this time it was more out of irritation. They really needed to get past this. He gently pushed James off of him and twisted around to sit up, facing the bathroom door. “Alec!” he shouted. “Get the fuck out here right now, or I’ll show you exactly what _I’m_ made of when I rip that fucking door down!”

James snorted out a laugh and rolled onto his back. “Because the hotel’s not already going to charge enough in damages,” he teased.

The bathroom door clicked open, though Alec didn’t come out. Q heard the sound of water running in the sink. He caught a hint of werewolf blood in the air, adding to the smell from drops on the floor and destroyed furniture.

“James,” he warned.

“Shit,” James muttered, sitting up. “I must have bit harder than I thought.” He got to his feet, glancing at Q.

Wary of breathing, Q simply nodded in the direction of the bathroom. Alec might well be more injured than either of them realised — and neither had bothered to go check. What wasn’t lost on him, though, was the fact that James had turned to _him_ instead of just going to Alec.

James crossed the room, ignoring the splinters everywhere, and went to the bathroom. He paused in the doorway and looked back at Q. “Open a window,” he said, then disappeared inside and closed the door.

Q wasted no time doing what James suggested, though he wondered if it was necessary. How was he still controlling himself? Even a sated, relaxed vampire would have gone into full bloodlust with this much werewolf blood spilled. But while he _wanted_ their blood, he was able to do the impossible: to choose _not_ to attack them.

Still, best not to take chances. Once the last window was open, Q went back to the bed. He brushed away leaves and splinters and then sat down to wait for them.

He replayed the last few minutes in his mind. James had turned to him. Before going to his friend, before doing what was probably instinctual after almost a century, he had turned to Q for approval. It filled him with a smug sense of satisfaction — at least _one_ of the wolves was acknowledging he belonged to Q.

The only problem was Alec. He’d realised his mistake, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d attacked without thinking. Alec had never openly said that _he_ trusted Q. James had said they both trusted Q, and while Alec had never denied it, he’d never said it himself.

Maybe Alec didn’t trust him after all. Q didn’t like the idea of second-guessing James, but on more than one occasion Alec’s actions had shown a complete lack of trust, not the other way around. By nature, Alec was a feral werewolf — he’d been born that way. It was only through James’ friendship and guidance that he’d come to resemble anything close to civilised. And in Q’s very long life, he’d never known a feral wolf to _ever_ trust a vampire. So was Alec only doing it for James?

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Q tore out a piece of the mattress and absently started shredding it between his fingers. It was his absolute worst human habit, one that he rarely fell back on. He couldn’t help himself, though. He no longer had any idea what to expect when that door finally opened.

 

~~~

 

“This could take two, three weeks to heal,” Alec said, his voice strained by how he had his head tipped back.

James huffed, dabbing at the wounds with the corner of a wet towel. The bleeding had slowed for all but the deepest. “Faster if you stay wolf.”

“And eat your boyfriend?”

It was meant to come out light and teasing, but James could hear how Alec bit out the words, thick with resentment. He reached past Alec to run water over a fresh corner of the towel.

“I thought it was protectiveness, not jealousy,” James said only when he could be certain there wasn’t a hint of accusation in his words. He thought they’d settled their differences. Wolves were rational about conflict. When conflict happened and words failed, they fought, resolving the matter with teeth and fur, and that was it. No lingering resentment. No pent-up anger.

Alec huffed and tried to look at James, but James shoved his chin back up and went back to trying to slow the bleeding. “What the _hell_ —” escaped before Alec shut his mouth with an audible snap.

Not that James couldn’t hear the rest of the question. “I trust him,” James explained with a little shrug. “All of me trusts him — wolf and human.”

Power crawled through the air around Alec’s body as his muscles went tight. “So that’s your choice.” Abruptly, Alec pushed James away and reached for the door.

“ _What’s_ my choice?” James demanded, flattening a hand on the door as Alec depressed the latch.

Alec growled, claws scraping against the door. “Him.”

“Him —” James pushed past Alec to use his body weight to hold the door closed. Whatever the hell was going on inside Alec, they needed to have this out now and be done with it, before either of them could be trusted anywhere near Q. “What could _possibly_ make you think I’m choosing him over you?”

“You think I can’t tell?” Alec demanded. He gave the door a last, futile tug, but James had leverage on his side. Alec wasn’t going anywhere. Teeth bared in a snarl, Alec finally backed away instead of pushing — instead of escalating with an attack.

He _never_ backed away. He’d back down when beaten, but he didn’t surrender without a fight.

James looked at the blood streaking down Alec’s throat and thought about Q in the next room. Inwardly he sighed; he’d expected a weekend of more sex and less brawling, but the two were damned near one and the same, for werewolves.

“Right, then,” he said, and let his claws slip free for what felt like the hundredth time tonight.

 

~~~

 

The door to the bathroom shook violently on its hinges, and Q jumped in surprise. It was quickly followed by the sound of breaking glass — most likely the mirror — and a very deep snarl.

Q panicked at the thought that they might actually be trying to kill each other this time. Earlier he’d had to _tell_ James to let Alec go before he’d unclenched his jaws from Alec’s throat. Was he in there right now trying to finish the job?

Realising the idiocy of what he was about to do, Q sprung off the bed and lunged for the door. Not wanting to kick the door in on them, he grabbed the handle and pulled, yanking the damn door clear through the frame —

Only to be thrown onto his back, the door crashing over him, as two wolves came tumbling out. Alec recovered first, tucking to roll into one of the armchairs before he neatly caught his balance. James scrambled to his feet just in time to meet Alec’s lunge with a snarl, though he couldn’t brace against the bigger wolf’s attack.

Abandoning the useless door, Q rolled aside a heartbeat before the werewolves crashed down where he’d been lying. Alec’s clawed feet raked splinters from the hardwood floor; he would’ve shredded Q.

They hit the wall hard enough to rattle the paintings and crack the plaster. James kicked off from the door, driving Alec back, and as Alec rolled, Q caught the enticing smell of werewolf blood all over again.

Q took barely a second to think before he raced at the pair of them. He reached out until his hands found purchase around fur. As fast as he could and as hard as he could, he yanked back and threw, flinging one of them across the room, towards the leaf-covered mattress. Before the wolf even landed, Q turned and raced back towards the window, putting distance between himself and both wolves.

“ _Stop!_ ” he commanded.

Perhaps it was the shock of having someone intervene in what probably had always been private; perhaps it was the fact that Q was their Quartermaster. Either way, the wolves didn’t attack each other — or him. They stared, eyes moving from him to each other and back. Their sides heaved as they panted. Alec, who’d hit the bed, was bleeding more now than he had been before, and his upper lip was torn open. He’d caught James’ ear, and a trail of blood ran over the side of James’ face and down his throat. Panting in exhaustion, James dropped down to lie on his belly, muzzle on the floor.

Slowly, Alec sat back, fur fading between one blink and the next. He lifted a hand to his mouth and wiped at the blood, looking down at it with eyes that were still gold. He ignored the blood trailing down from both sides of his throat, dark trails dripping down his chest, smudged on one side by his raised arm. He had no right to be that gorgeous with that much damage done to him. Q didn’t just want to lick the blood off of him; he wanted to _devour_ him, but even that was desire, not bloodlust.

Q tore his eyes away from Alec to look back at James. “What in the bloody _fuck_ happened in there?”

Alec shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. He stared at James, and the fire in him seemed to die out, leaving his green eyes tired and empty. “He fought for you.”

A growl answered Alec’s statement. James scrambled to his feet, claws fighting for purchase on the wood floor. He dragged in a breath with visible effort and growled again, hackles raised threateningly as he advanced towards the bed as ready for a third round that neither of them might survive, given the state they were in.

Q didn’t even bother to move this time. He brought himself up to his full height and demanded, “Bond. Stand down. _Now_.” James looked over at Q, no longer growling. “I demand you change back into your human form. I want to know what the fuck _he_ ” — Q pointed a finger at Alec — “is bloody talking about.”

“He wants _you_ ,” Alec said, turning back to Q. “He chose you instead of me. That’s all this was.”

James growled again, and Q finally stepped forward to put himself between the two. He glared down at James and said, “ _Human_ , Bond,” before turning his back on the wolf to face Alec. “And what the fuck do you mean, he chose me? He never chose me. Where in the sodding hell did you get _that_ idea from?”

Alec looked up at Q, then past him. Over the sound of scraping claws, Alec spoke in a dead, expressionless voice: “Don’t turn around. He doesn’t like to be watched.”

Q came up short, caught entirely wrong-footed by the response. “I... wasn’t going to,” he muttered.

It was only then that Q really saw Alec. The way his shoulders sagged, the lifelessness in his eyes... The fight was completely drained from him. Alec wasn’t angry; he was heartbroken.

A different kind of anger flared up inside of Q. He had been right earlier when he’d told James they should never have started anything without Alec present. Whatever this was, it was too new. Too soon for anyone to be left out. And now Alec thought he was being _pushed_ out.

Q took a tentative step toward Alec. “I don’t think that’s what’s going on here Alec,” he said, keeping his voice neutral but firm. “I’m fairly certain he would kill me before turning on you.”

“He’s a wolf,” James said from behind Q, his voice rough but human. He walked to the mattress, his steps heavy and graceless, and sat down hard enough to stir the leaves and mattress stuffing. One side of his face was bloody from his torn ear, and his body was covered with darkening bruises. He moved stiffly, turning to face Alec. “I was fighting for _you_ , you bloody arse.”

Alec’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

James lifted a hand to touch Alec’s face and leaned in, quietly saying, “You’re not going anywhere.”

Alec tensed but didn’t pull away. “You want him,” he said bluntly.

With a quiet laugh, James said, “So do you.” He moved his hand to Alec’s nape and pulled him close, so their foreheads touched. “Nothing has to change.”

Q opened his mouth to say something but then snapped it shut. They were his wolves, but this was something that needed to be settled between the two of them. That didn’t stop the savage smile that crept along his face. He wanted both of them, but he still needed to gain Alec’s trust. And he could _use_ James to make that happen. Alec, at least, trusted James.


	8. Chapter 8

**Friday, 17 May 2013**

Fully aware that he was the outsider, Q turned away from the wolves, giving them a moment to themselves. He went to the one armchair that was still upright, brushed the plaster dust and splinters off the seat, and sat down. He could hear the wolves talking, but he forced himself to concentrate on sounds beyond the room — other conversations, the rustle of wind through the trees in the garden, the traffic on the streets.

As he watched the lines of tension slowly leave their bodies, his eyes finally settled on the wounds that riddled them both. James and Alec were both bleeding profusely. He had noticed it on Alec earlier, and realised then that he should have been on edge the instant they came roaring out of the bathroom. So why wasn’t he?

He wanted them; he wanted their blood, no question. _Why_ wasn’t he lunging for them? He checked within himself, but couldn’t find the bloodlust _anywhere_. All he could find was worry over the state they’d left each other in. And not just physical; that would heal. He couldn’t have his wolves broken over _him_. He’d just as soon leave.

Finally they moved, leaning on each other like two wolves in human form, heads resting on shoulders, bodies close without sexual intimacy, hands touching simply for the sake of closeness. From where Q sat, he could see James’ back, with a spectacularly dark bruise low on his ribs, red at the centre from blood trapped beneath the skin. He was breathing without trouble, though not deeply, and Q reminded himself that even if James’ ribs were broken, they’d heal in a matter of hours, days at most. He could see almost nothing of Alec except his mussed blond hair covering James’ shoulder and the hand that rested over James’ ankle, fingers curled to hold without trapping.

Watching them, Q knew that the rest of the world had fallen away. This had to be the civilised equivalent of a feral wolf’s pack. For seventy years, this had been the centre of their shared lives, to the exclusion of everything else — including Q.

Now, though, Q needed to know if that was still true. They might have agreed that they wanted him, but they might also have just decided they couldn’t work well together _with_ him. Not that he’d let them get away with that. They were still his wolves. Feeling he’d waited long enough, he finally spoke up. “I assume we’ve settled our differences, then. Seeing as how I’m too naked to simply leave, I would very much like to determine where this evening is headed.”

They both looked at him, moving in that eerie unison he’d seen only a few times in his life, and always from feral packs. Though they didn’t speak, he was convinced they were communicating, coming to a decision.

“We’re bleeding,” James finally said as they separated. He lifted a hand to his torn ear and snarled quietly. Alec’s lip had stopped bleeding, though his throat hadn’t. Q stared at the trail of blood as a wave of desire crashed over him. He _wanted_ Alec, still. But it was becoming more and more clear that his want had nothing to do with bloodlust and everything to do with his need to make the wolves his.

“Is there a first aid kit in this place?” Q asked. He decided it was best not to get up to search one out. He still didn’t know why the instinct to feed wasn’t taking over, and he didn’t want to risk it by getting too close. “There must be if this hotel is meant for wolves. I mean, the way you two attacked each other, and you actually _like_ each other...”

“It’s not usually a concern,” James said wryly. He turned back just as Alec did the same, and their eyes met. Then Alec got up and headed for the door to the hallway, not the bathroom. James turned to take Alec’s place at the far side of the mattress and sat down with a grimace as his back touched the wall.

Q turned to watch Alec leave, unabashedly admiring the curves of his arse as he opened the door and walked out. He sighed before looking back at James. “Where is he going?”

“To find a first aid kit. This sort of damage is nothing to us.” James looked back at Q, and though they were separated by a good five metres, the air between them crackled with sudden energy, as if the two wolves hadn’t spent nearly half the night trying to kill one another. Then he looked to the open windows and added, in a more subdued voice, “But if you need to go, you should.”

“I don’t, actually.” Q shifted, but didn’t stand up. With Alec gone, this wasn’t the time to test his self-control.

James frowned. “I’ve seen papercuts trigger bloodlust, Q. You don’t need to pretend.”

Q shook his head. “I’m not pretending,” he replied honestly. “I still want your blood; I still want to taste both of you. But there seems to be no bloodlust driving me to attack you.”

“How? That’s not possible. I know what our blood does to vampires.” James sat forward with another wince and wrapped his arms around his knees, obviously trying to get comfortable.

Q turned to look out one of the windows, muttering softly, “Yes, well, I’m not like most vampires, am I?”

“No,” James said just as softly. “We want to know why.”

Q sighed and turned back to face him. “This isn’t a conversation for right now.”

James met his eyes, fierce and not the least bit tame or civilised, but he said nothing else. He just watched Q as if trying to mentally dissect him, and Q remembered too late just how perceptive James really was, for a werewolf. At one point in the sixties, Major Boothroyd had actually tested the two werewolves for psychic abilities — which didn’t exist, as any half-decent scientist knew. James was simply unnaturally observant, able to put together conclusions about a person’s background and motives and even thoughts, all from observable, tangible clues.

James’ scrutiny didn’t break until Alec’s return. He walked into the room, streaks of blood now smudged to a dull pink, presumably by the once-fine handkerchief in one hand. In his other hand, he held a small first aid kit, the kind a human might keep in the car. He looked to James first, but then he turned to Q, as if reassuring himself that they were both unharmed.

Grateful for the intrusion, Q held out his hand and smiled. “Would you like help with that?”

“Let’s not go for a record and destroy the _whole_ room tonight,” Alec said, tossing the first aid kit onto the mattress. It sent debris scattering into the air before skidding to a halt against James’ foot. Still carrying the handkerchief, Alec went into the bathroom and turned on the water.

James barked out a quiet laugh and opened the plastic box. “Two walls to go, and all those windows. That’s at least ten minutes.”

“Well, with my help, we could do it in five.” Q stood up but stayed where he was in front of the chair. He glanced at the hole in the wall that led to the bathroom before he looked uncomfortably back at James. “I _would_ like to help, but since I still have no idea why I’m not trying to bite you right now, I would prefer it if Alec came back out here.”

“To stop you or give you a second target?” Alec asked, stepping into the open doorway. He had a wet towel to his throat, though it didn’t seem to be doing much good, judging by the red stains seeping through the white cloth.

Q turned to give Alec a withering look. “To stop me, obviously, if it’s needed. As I told James while you were searching for the kit, I’m not going to lie when I say I very much want to lick that blood off of you right now, but there seems to be no actual bloodlust behind it.”

Alec looked across the room with a puzzled frown. “I think I’m insulted. Are we insulted?”

James sighed. “Why the bloody hell not? We’re nearly out of stupid decisions to make. Insulted it is.”

“It’s that or he’s broken.” Alec shot Q a questioning glance. “Can vampires _get_ broken like that?”

Q gave Alec a flat stare. “This coming from two wolves who just destroyed half a hotel room over a vampire. A creature they’re _supposed_ to despise on principle,” he said dryly, despite feeling just a tad smug. They may have fought for each other, but they’d still fought over _him_.

He walked over to stand at the foot of the bed. The only way Alec would trust Q was if he first proved himself trustworthy around James. If he showed that he could remain in control, even with a bleeding wolf in front of him, Alec might finally let his guard down.

He slowly lowered himself to kneel on the edge of the mattress and held out his hand again for the kit. “Please, James. Let me help you.”

The human mind registered movement much more slowly than a vampire’s. A human would have seen James look up at Alec at the same time he set the first aid kit down. But Q wasn’t a human. He saw the way James’ hand moved towards him first.

 _Mine,_ he thought viciously, hiding the satisfied grin that threatened to appear.

“It won’t scar, so you don’t have to worry about being neat,” James said, moving away from the damaged wall to turn sideways, showing Q his mangled ear.

One look at the ear, though, and Q knew the first aid kit was a waste after all. James’ wounds wouldn’t be fixed with bandages or gauze; Alec’s deeper wounds wouldn’t stop bleeding for some time.

Even if Q was in control of himself now, the night was effectively over.

Q sighed and sat back on his heels. “Never mind,” he said. “You don’t need bandages. What you _need_ is to revert back to wolf form and go find someplace to heal.” He turned to Alec. “If it’s easier, you can just stay here. I may be naked, but I am fast. I’m sure I can make it to my car before anyone notices.”

Alec’s disappointed frown went a long way towards stroking Q’s ego. “We’ll go. You...” He trailed off, looking towards the ruined mattress.

James’ cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “I’m certain the staff here can find you trousers, Q. Or a lab coat. You’d be bloody adorable in a lab coat.”

“Is this some new fetish?” Alec asked.

James grinned at Q. “It could be.”

“Don’t listen to him. It’s not new. He’s wanted me in a lab coat since we first met.” He smiled and looked around, surveying the mess. This wasn’t the place for them to heal properly — not anymore. He realised it might actually be better for everyone involved if he took care of the hotel himself. If he dealt with it, he could easily keep MI6 from finding out. Regardless, they were in no shape to return to work anytime soon.

Decision made, Q eyed them both in turn. “You two should actually go. I can handle this mess here much better than you can. As it is, I’m putting you both on active leave for two weeks. So _no missions_.”

The quick, guilty exchange of glances told Q that they both knew exactly what he meant — not that he expected them to actually _listen_.

“I was carrying our wallets,” James said, looking to Alec. “My jacket.”

“Get it your damned self,” Alec said with a sharp grin. He took the bloody towel from his throat, looked at it, and gave it a toss into the bathroom, where it landed with a wet splat.

James didn’t roll his eyes, but Q knew he wanted to. Instead of going over to the armchairs to get his jacket, he told Q, “Our wallets are in the inside pocket. Would you mind holding onto them for us?”

Q nodded. “Certainly. When will you be needing them back?”

“If we need money, we can rob a bank,” Alec said with a shrug.

James bit back a laugh. “We’ll be fine, Q. Thank you.” He got to his feet and walked off the mattress, overturning the first aid kit. With one hand, he pressed on his torn ear. He stopped a few feet away from Q and held out his other hand.

Surprised, Q looked down and stared stupidly at it for an unforgivably long time. Finally, he looked back up at James and tentatively took the proffered hand. “Please heal well, James. As turned on as I am that you were fighting over... well, _me_ ” — he smiled smugly at James — “I don’t like seeing either of you damaged by it.”

“We’ve done far worse to each other. And at least we didn’t hurt you.” James’ fingers closed around Q’s, and he gave a gentle, encouraging tug.

As much as Q wanted to give in, to taste James’ kiss, he wasn’t certain they were ready for even that small intimacy. When Q didn’t move, James stopped and lifted his hand so he could brush his lips over Q’s skin instead. “Less fighting, next time,” he said quietly.

“Save it for the rough sex,” Q countered, giving James an avaricious grin.

James grinned back and let go, fingers dragging over Q’s skin as though reluctant to break even that slight contact. Then he turned and walked to where Alec was waiting by the door, already in wolf form. Q turned his back and looked out the window into the narrow alley. He could barely see James’ reflection in the glass, shifting through his tall, bulky hybrid form and then down into full wolf.

“May I turn back around now?” he asked, feeling a touch defeated. He was disappointed the evening was already coming to an end, but he knew it was for the best. One of them barked — he assumed it was James.

When Q turned, he saw Alec had already unlatched the door. He nosed it open and glanced back at Q. Then, silently, he left. James stayed in the doorway, watching Q for a few seconds more, before he followed.

Q listened to them pad down the hallway before he went to close the door behind them. Resting his head on the door jamb, he sighed in frustration. The evening had started out gloriously, followed by fantastic sexual foreplay. Oh, maybe his wolves had thought it was sex, but to Q, it was only a _tease_ to what was supposed to happen that night. It was great, but he wanted _mind-blowing_. Their ridiculous posturing had ruined that.

With an exasperated huff, Q pushed off the door and turned to find James’ jacket. He spotted it crumpled on the floor next to the armchair he’d been sitting in. He leaned over to pick it up, brushing plaster off the silken black, and rooted through the pockets for the wallets he’d been told were in there. He found both inside the inner pockets and, surprisingly, no gun. He imagined that in a place like this, his wolves might have felt no need to come in armed, but these _were_ Double O's. They rarely went _anywhere_ unarmed.

Tossing the jacket aside, Q noticed a piece of cloth hanging over the back of the chair. Curious, he walked around the chair and snatched it up, only to be hit with the intoxicating scent of wolf’s blood.

 _Alec_.

_The handkerchief._

With an embarrassingly loud hiss, Q shoved the bloodied handkerchief against his face and inhaled deeply. Alec had left this for him. The wolf had walked into the bathroom with it, so if it was now on the back of the chair, then he’d _meant_ for Q to find it.

He dropped to his knees, eyes closed, and pressed the cloth further against his face. This must have been Alec’s way of repaying Q for the cardigan, but it was one thing to hand over a garment with a lingering scent; it was entirely different to give a vampire something as intimate as a werewolf’s own blood.

He rolled onto his back and smiled. The evening had ended with both wolves bleeding and none of them truly satisfied, but with that one extraordinary gesture, Alec had signalled his willingness to try again. He wouldn’t go home and try to convince James that being with Q was a bad idea.

And regardless, James had still shown deference to Q. He turned to Q for approval, and had even gone so far as to allow Q’s mouth — his _fangs_ — near where others had taken advantage. James didn’t just want him; James had _let him in._

At least Q had managed to gain the trust of the notoriously stubborn James Bond. It was a start.


	9. Chapter 9

**Saturday, 1 June 2013**

“I’m not going to bite you,” Q purred, his voice low. He grinned wickedly at his date for the night, loving the way her breath hitched at the word _bite_. He slid his hands up her thighs, parting them so he could move in closer

“You promise? I’m not into that sort of thing, you know,” she lied. Of course it was a lie. She and Q were in a private lounge in the back of Hydra Code, and even if the marks were healed and covered lightly with makeup, he could still see where she’d been bitten before. Numerous times.

He ran his fingers along her jaw to cup her chin. “Don’t worry. It’s not my thing, either.” And that _was_ the truth. Q didn’t feed on humans, not ever. It was either animal blood or commercially processed human blood. He never took directly from a human, willing or not. To drain the life force from a person, even if they survived... It just wasn’t something he’d ever been able to bring himself to do.

The girl’s eyes — and really, what _was_ her name? — went wide in surprise. “Honestly?” She moved back slightly but didn’t dislodge Q. “You really aren’t going to bite me?”

Q sighed. “No. I’m —” He was cut off at the sound of his mobile ringing. His _private_ mobile. Only about five people in the world had that number, and all were important enough to interrupt Q’s night. He stood up off the velvet sofa and stepped back with a polite, “Just a moment,” and reached into his pocket to grab his phone —

Only to see the number for Scotland Yard. It wasn’t programmed in, but Q had memorised all important government phone numbers. Confused, he hit send and pressed the phone to his ear. “Q speaking.”

A relieved sigh answered him. “Right, Q. Do you know a ‘James Bond’ and ‘Alec Trevelyan’?” asked an exasperated-sounding man. “Sorry, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade, Scotland Yard.”

 _Of course_. “Yes, Detective Inspector, I know them. But would you mind holding for just one moment?” Q pulled the phone away from his ear and stepped back to the girl. He grabbed her arm and yanked her up off the other end of the sofa where she’d leaned back to examine her nails. “Leave,” he ordered. He shoved her through the lounge curtain and put the phone back to his ear, ignoring her squeals of indignation. “What did they do?”

“You want the whole list or just the highlights? We’ve got impersonating government officers and possible homicide all the way down to public nudity and scaring the shit out of some old granny walking her poodle.”

Q shook his head and turned to drop back down onto the sofa. Two weeks, that was what he’d told them. Two weeks to _heal_ , not terrorise half of London. He was beginning to see the merits of shock collars right about now. He idly wondered if he could modify them to shock his wolves anytime they smelled fear. Pre-emptive strikes always did work best.

He propped his elbows on his knees and rested his hand in his chin. “Let’s start from the top. What do you mean they impersonated government officers?”

“That happened at the end, according to the report. Looks like two of our officers responded to a public disturbance, only these two werewolves were tearing apart some bloke. The officer who _didn’t_ puke up on his shoes called for backup, and that’s where it gets a little... muddy. The bigger one went human and said they were MI6, only — Well, they were in an alley, and there’s this huge bloke wearing nothing but — well, nothing... Can you come down here? If they _are_ yours, then MI6 can take them back. If not, I’ve got to transfer them to a more secure lockup before they rip apart the bloody cell.”

“I —” Q began before the entirety of the inspector’s words sunk in. Genuinely worried, Q sat up, eyes narrowed, as if the inspector could see him. “What do you mean, they were ‘tearing apart some bloke’?”

“The bloke in question _might_ have been involved in a crime of his own. So there’s a chance — a _very_ slim chance — that these two werewolves might’ve prevented a sexual assault. Only the lady in question won’t talk to anyone at the moment, because...” He trailed off meaningfully.

Relief flooded through Q. If they really had stopped a sexual assault, Q didn’t give a flying fuck what they did to the assailant. They could eviscerate him and eat his entrails in Trafalgar-bloody-Square for all he cared.

Q stood up and left the private lounge, making his way to the front door. He hadn’t driven to Hydra, so he’d need to go back for his car if he was going to pick up his wolves. He tucked his phone against his shoulder and said, “All right, Detective Inspector, I’ll be right down. And yes, they are, in fact, MI6. So I would strongly suggest your officers stay as far away from them as possible.”

“Shit. They’re still unconscious, I think, but if you wouldn’t mind hurrying...”

“Oh, bloody fuck,” Q threw out in irritation. He hung up before the inspector could say anything else and shoved his phone back in his pocket. Once outside, he turned and bolted in the direction of his flat. It would only take him two minutes to get there, but with his car, it was another fifteen minutes to Scotland Yard. And he _had_ to get there before his bored assassin werewolves woke up.

 

~~~

 

Detective Inspector Lestrade was the sort of reliable human who took up the mantle of police work out of a sense of civic duty and pride, and who would do whatever it took to protect the people in his care. Unfortunately, in this case, ‘protection’ required at least six Tasers, two pairs of handcuffs, and a double-reinforced cell.

“They’re really MI6?” the silver-haired inspector asked, looking sceptically from the naked, unconscious agents to Q.

Q hummed in acknowledgement. “Senior field operatives, to be precise.” He waved a hand in the direction of his two idiots. “Queen and country’s finest, right here.”

He knew he sounded snide, but Q was more than a little irritated at the pair and failing to hide it from Lestrade.  He knew their penchant for boredom, but he didn’t think they would actually attack a human _in public_. They were so much more discreet out in the field. Mallory would have their heads for this.

“Want to take care of the paperwork before they wake up? Our medic figures we’ve got” — he checked his watch — “maybe ten minutes. Most werewolves go down with one hit from a Taser, you know.”

“Yes, well, they’re not like most wolves,” Q commented, echoing his own words from the night at the hotel. He smiled thinly at Lestrade. “Let’s get this over with. I’d very much like to get them out of here before they even _begin_ to wake up.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lestrade shot Q a concerned look as he turned to lead Q out of the holding cells and back up to the offices. “These two are extremely dangerous. Not exactly cooperative once they’re all riled up, either. I can transfer them to secure holding for a day or so to let them cool down, if you’d rather.”

Q huffed out a laugh, completely humourless. “It may not seem like it, but I am more than capable of taming the two of them. I’m starting to think I may be the only one.”

“I hate to mention this, but” — Lestrade shot Q a faint grin — “you’re a vampire, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Oh, believe me, Detective Inspector, the irony isn’t lost on me.”

The Yard’s computer system wasn’t nearly as efficient as it could have been — no surprise, considering Q knew the vampire contractors responsible for the software design. It took twenty-five minutes to get all the reports straightened out and for the official transfer of custody to be processed. Fortunately, Q was able to bypass a great deal of red tape with his MI6 ID.

It helped that Lestrade had no interest at all in actually keeping the two werewolves.

“Just remember to email me their statements, please,” Lestrade said as he picked up his desk phone and punched in a few numbers. “If the alleged rapist comes out of his coma, the victim will probably press charges, and that makes your two — Yeah, DI Lestrade, homicide division,” he said into the phone, holding up a hand. “Can you process Bond, J., and Trevelyan, A.? We’re releasing them.” After a moment, he hung up and looked over at Q. “They’re all yours, if you still want them.”

“Yes, Detective Inspector, I still want them,” Q said with a resigned sigh. He would always want them. But it wasn’t until then that he realised how much of a problem that had become. Refusing to entertain that train of thought in the middle of Scotland Yard, Q stood up and walked with Lestrade to the door. He turned to face the inspector and asked, “I’ll just take them home now, shall I?”

Lestrade offered his hand and a sympathetic smile. “Good luck with that.”

Grateful for the kindness — most humans didn’t want to touch his kind — Q shook Lestrade’s hand. “Thank you,” he said, and gave the inspector one of his rare honest smiles. Without another word, he opened the door and walked out. It was time his wolves were made aware of exactly who ran this pack.

 

~~~

 

“It could be worse,” Alec said, twisting to try to look back over his own shoulder. “No, wait. There’s another.”

“Were they trying to bloody _kill us_?” James asked, raising his voice in exasperation. So far, he’d counted four sets of tiny puncture wounds on his body, each pair from the silver heads of a Taser designed to take down werewolves at twenty feet.

Alec barked out a rough laugh. “Probably, only you know how inefficient the police are.”

For once, James had the wisdom to keep his mouth shut. He was all too aware of their precarious position. With their hands cuffed behind their backs, they might manage a shift to hybrid form. If that didn’t end up tearing apart their wrists — he had no doubt the cuffs were reinforced — they’d still be trapped and unable to shift to full wolf without risking even worse damage to their spines.

Escape would be difficult. Not impossible, but difficult, and probably not worth the trouble.

He had vague memories of Alec identifying himself as an MI6 agent, though given the state of things, he wasn’t surprised that it hadn’t had any effect on the riot squad of officers that had shown up. But there was no point in dwelling on the past — not when damage control was far more important.

Of course, the problem with that was the best way to get out was to appear harmless enough to be released on bail for... whatever they’d done. And neither James nor Alec was very good at appearing harmless, even in human form.

“You should have run,” Alec said as he leaned back against the cell wall. He looked from the bars to James and back as if sizing up James’ ability to get through them.

 _That_ wasn’t going to happen. James stayed where he was, wondering if he could get his claws into the concrete footing of the inner cell wall. If they took out three inner bars and four of the outer ones, which were set closer together, they could escape. Werewolf claws could tear through concrete with admirable speed, but it was noisy as all hell.

“I wasn’t going to run.”

“You’re a bloody idiot.”

“ _You_ could have run.”

Alec bared his teeth in a grin. “I’m also a bloody idiot, I suppose.”

“Well, _I_ certainly won’t disagree with that,” came a calm, familiar voice — the one person James most wanted to hear in any _other_ circumstance.

“Fucking shit,” Alec muttered, lapsing into Russian.

“Don’t bother, Trevelyan,” Q said, also in Russian, as he stepped into view in front of the steel bars. His arms were folded across his chest, and his normally hazel-green eyes were flinted black around the edges as he glared at the two of them. “There are very few languages I don’t speak. And those are only the ones not worth learning.”

James nearly got up. Two weeks had let him forget just how much he _wanted_ Q. But not now. Not like this.

Alec laughed. “Why am I not surprised. Care to join us? We have unfinished business from a couple of weeks back.”

James shot him a dark look and growled under his breath. Alec’s habit of poking at rattlesnakes was fine for when they were in the field, but not here, with Q. The look he got back was startled, almost hurt. Alec huffed and turned away, and James nearly said something to him, but it was better if Alec kept quiet for now.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be discussing ‘unfinished business’, do you, Trevelyan?” Q reached out and grabbed onto the bars, leveling a gaze at Alec. “Not when you’re behind these lovely things for practically _murdering_ somebody.”

Alec bared his teeth and shot a look at James. “We didn’t even kill the fucking bastard.”

 _Next time_ nearly slipped out, though James caught himself before saying it. Instead, he tried for his most reasonable tone and told Q, “We had to do _something_.”

Q huffed and dragged his fingers across the bars as he moved over to stand in front of the door. “You know, this is what I don’t understand. You two are trained field operatives for MI6. We _pay you_ to be discreet. Now while you two seem to take exception to that rule at every possible turn, did it really have to be in the middle of sodding London?”

“To be fair, we didn’t choose the location,” James said. “We were just out for a run.”

“No, that’s true. You didn’t choose the location, Bond,” Q said drily. “But you did choose to mutilate the man. Was that really necessary?”

“We would have shot him, but it’s a bit difficult to carry a gun when you’re in fur.”

Alec laughed quietly. “We save the delicate claw-work for more important things.”

Q sighed, but instead of responding he turned to look down the corridor. He snapped his fingers and said, “You. Open these doors.” Immediately, a guard walked up to punch a code into the electronic keypad opposite the cell. The outer door slid open with a soft hiss, followed by the inner door, and Q stepped out of the way. “Are you coming?”

James heard Alec’s quiet sigh of relief. No wolf liked being caged, but James, born human, could tolerate it better than Alec. He stepped out of Alec’s way to let him out first.

Alec went right to Q, though he held himself back at the last moment. When James followed, he saw why: two guards at one end of the corridor, security cameras everywhere. It wouldn’t do for footage of MI6 werewolves sniffing a vampire to hit YouTube — not that James wasn’t tempted himself. After two weeks apart, the force of Q’s presence hit him like a bullet.

Without looking away from Alec, Q stuck his hand out. “Keys,” he ordered, but it lacked his usual command. When the guard tossed the keys, Q deftly caught them and then touched Alec’s arm. Alec tensed, a little shiver passing through his body, but he kept silent, allowing Q to turn him around. As soon as Q unlocked the cuffs, Alec dropped to all fours, shifting to full wolf so quickly that the guards at the far end of the corridor swore in surprise.

Q stepped over to James to unlock his cuffs, and muttered softly. “You know, I should leave these things on you. I’d consider it, if I thought it might actually teach you two a lesson.”

The thought was uncomfortably _interesting_ to James, considering he was trapped out in public, stark naked. He growled under his breath and turned, forcing himself not to dwell on the idea. “I’ll need clothing,” he snapped, glaring at the guards. When the cuffs finally were off, he pulled his hands around front and rubbed at his wrists.

“Here, take these with you.” Q tossed the keys and the cuffs back at the guard. “And please hurry. I need to get them back to MI6 for debriefing, and I’m quite certain you don’t want them here any longer than necessary.”

Alec turned to stare at Q with a low, rumbling growl that needed no translation. James grinned and very quietly said, “If you even try to take us back to MI6, we may have to add kidnapping to the charges.”

Q snorted. “Oh, I have no intention of taking you back to MI6,” he responded just as quietly. “But they don’t need to know that.”

 

~~~

 

Q walked out of Scotland Yard with James — clothed, thankfully — and Alec in tow. The station kept old clothes on hand for instances with drunks and homeless people — or so they’d told Q — so they’d given James baggy, old jeans and an ill-fitting T-shirt. He’d stared at the clothes as if trying to set them on fire with his mind alone, and Q almost thought he’d relent and put on his fur.

As it was, Q tried valiantly not to laugh and failed. The Great James Bond in anything other than something tailor-made would have been well worth a photograph, if Q wasn’t convinced it would get _him_ eviscerated. James snarled under his breath, jaw set, and refused to look in Q’s direction. Walking on James’ other side, Alec barked out a sound that was suspiciously like a laugh.

Q stopped and pushed the door open, letting James walk out first. Alec pushed past them both and hurried out into the night air, raising his head to sniff. Q glanced at Alec before turning to walk toward his car. “Will he be coming with us? In my car, I mean? Or will he want to run?”

“That depends where we’re going.” James gave Q a look that was still sullen as he took in Q’s PVC trousers and his waistcoat, worn with no shirt underneath. “Or we can find our own way home, if you had other plans.”

“Oh, I did, but I sent her on her way,” Q replied nonchalantly. He flicked a glance in James’ direction, pleased to see the subtle signs of jealousy in his stiff posture and refusal to look back at Q. “She wanted me to bite her, but that’s not — Well, anyway, I don’t have plans anymore.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” James said in a smooth, absolutely calm voice that Q recognised from listening in on his missions. He was a very, very good liar. “Why _are_ you here, anyway? This was an administrative matter, not something for your department.”

Q turned away, embarrassed, and headed for his side of the car. He didn’t blush anymore, but he knew his eyes would be a dead giveaway. “Ah. Yes, well” — he fumbled slightly with the key fob in his attempt to unlock the doors — “I may have put myself down as both your emergency contacts after the incident at the hotel.”

“Probably for the best,” James said as Q finally managed to press the button. “Mallory would have left us there. Mansfield did, more than once,” he added with a touch of dark humour in his voice. He opened the passenger side door.

Q only looked up when he heard a brief scuffle; Alec tried and failed to slip past James and get onto the front seat. Q leaned down to eyeball Alec through the open car door. “Scratch this leather, wolf, and I won’t just make you pay to replace it; I’ll pull you from the field and stick you on new-recruit training for the next six months.”

Alec bared his excessively long fangs and slithered into the back. It was a tight fit for a wolf of his size, especially when he twisted to shove his head between the two front seats.

James got into the front seat, shut the door, and pushed Alec’s muzzle back — or tried to. Alec snapped at James’ hand, though his fangs didn’t break skin. “You can run, if you’d rather,” James pointed out.

Alec huffed in response and turned to watch Q with gold eyes that looked hungry. Then he pulled back, and Q got into the driver’s seat before Alec decided to change his mind. He started the engine and glanced in the rearview mirror —

And then looked again, when he realised the pale flash wasn’t fur but skin. Even in human form, Alec’s eyes remained gold, narrowing as he grinned at Q’s reflection. “Less likely that I’ll scratch your precious leather,” Alec said, sprawling back, one leg up on the seat as he turned sideways to try and get comfortable.

Q adjusted his rearview mirror to get a better view of Alec. It wasn’t like he actually needed mirrors to drive. “If I have to choose between your claws or having you laid out naked across the backseat of my car, I definitely think I prefer you like this.”

With barely a glance in any direction, Q threw the car in reverse and tore out of the parking space. He pulled out of the parking lot onto the unusually quiet London streets. At this time of night, even the city had its moments of calm.

He was glad to have the two of them out of there, if he was being honest with himself. Secretly, he was sure that whatever they’d done to the man, he’d probably deserved it. But Q didn’t need them to know that. He was worried if he gave them any sort of approval, next time they might actually go too far and kill on home soil. That was a headache Q could live without.

“I never expected this,” James said, momentarily confusing Q until a glance showed James was eyeing the car’s dashboard with interest. “I’ve been thinking of another Aston Martin. I couldn’t decide on a model.”

“Picky bastard that you are,” Alec said, bracing his other foot against the edge of Q’s seat.

“Your DB5 was beautiful. I’m usually not one for the classics, but even I cringed when I saw what was left of it.” Q shuddered slightly at the memory. It wasn’t just the car, but all of the wasted tech that had been installed.

“Are we going to waste the whole bloody night — morning,” Alec corrected himself as he abruptly sat forward, “talking about _cars_? If we are, stop and I’ll go find something interesting to do. Or _someone_.”

“And what would you have us do in a _moving vehicle_?” Q asked. Alec opened his mouth to respond, but Q cut him off. “And don’t even suggest sex. I tried that once. Almost took out five pedestrians in the process.”

“‘It’s on the street. It knows the risks it’s taking,’” Alec said, and James let out an incredibly inappropriate laugh.

The words teased at Q’s memory. Just as he opened his mouth to snap at Alec, he remembered. Not bothering to slow down, Q lifted his eyes to glare at Alec in the rearview mirror. “Are you quoting _Good Omens_ at me?”

“Centuries of classic literature, and the bloody wolf rereads _that_ every few months,” James complained.

“It’s fucking brilliant,” Alec countered. He kicked at Q’s seat — hard — and added, “If I can’t suggest sex, stop the bloody car. I’ll leave you two to be boring at each other.”

“Oh, _very_ subtle,” James muttered.

“Kick my seat again, you fucking mutt...” Q ground out. Alec was _never_ allowed in his car again. “If you were actually paying attention, you’d notice we’re heading back to my flat. And don’t even pretend you don’t know where I live. Or that you’ve never been there.”

“I’m not certain —” James began, but cut himself off. He looked back at Alec, instead asking, “Do you need to run?”

Alec shrugged and slouched back once more, though he didn’t take his foot from Q’s seat. “I’m fine.”

It took Q a moment for the thread of their conversation to click into place. “If it’s any consolation, the only things of value to me in my flat are either behind a steel cage or inside a safe that would survive a nuclear attack. Everything else is replaceable.”

“Walls — _Not a challenge_ ,” James snapped at Alec, who’d started laughing.

“Technically, you just made it a challenge,” Alec countered between huffs.

Q smiled serenely over at James. “No, it’s fine. But remember, I took care of the hotel. You break anything this time, and you’re paying to replace it.” The idea of breaking his apartment for sex  — only sex, this time — was more than just a little appealing to Q. His lovers tended to either be human or vampire. The former, he had to be gentle with; the latter tended to lead more toward slow seduction than anything destructive and dangerous. The thought of throwing slow and gentle out the window sent a spike of arousal straight to Q’s cock.

James laughed quietly. “I’d say we’ll try to be careful, but I’d be lying. Not that you want ‘careful’, do you?”

Alec sighed. “He wants to fuck us because he’s a fragile, delicate flower. What the hell do you think?” He sat forward again and slid his hand over Q’s hip. “Am I right? Tell me I’m right.”

Q slid his own hand back to grip Alec’s. “That I’m a fragile, delicate flower? Afraid not.” He pulled Alec’s hand forward to cup his groin. “That I want to fuck the both of you? Absolutely.”

With a low growl, Alec pushed as far between the seats as he could and ducked to bite at Q’s shoulder. Q hissed, and for one brief, electric instant, he debated stopping the car to fuck them both right there before James snarled and shoved Alec back.

Q couldn’t help the second hiss that escaped his lips, although this one was far more annoyed than aroused. He had been enjoying Alec’s touch. There was no good reason Q could think of for James' interference.

Q narrowed his eyes suspiciously at James and said, “So, no fucking in the car, then?”

James turned, eyes no longer blue at all. He smiled a sly, barely-there smile. “We could go to the park. See if you can run from us.”

“Finally, a _brilliant_ plan,” Alec approved.

“Oh, I can outrun you — there’s no question about that. But we’re not going. You two have already been arrested once tonight. We don’t need to go for a record.”

“We’d be at it for months to break that record,” James muttered.

“Then what’s your plan?” Alec asked, running his hand over Q’s bare arm, making him shiver. “See how much damage we can do to your flat in twenty-four hours?”

“Well, I’m not actively giving you permission to trash the place, but I’m also not so stupid to think you _won’t_.” Q said with a laugh.

Alec turned curiously to James, though he didn’t stop petting Q. “I don’t think we’ve ever actually _asked permission_ to damage a building.”

“Technically, we’ve had blanket permission since joining the Double O Programme,” James pointed out with what struck Q as very werewolfy logic. “It’s just not meant to be used _here_.”

“Special circumstances.” Alec curled his fingers, dragging his nails up Q’s arm. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Like I said. Not giving you active permission,” Q countered. He pressed down a bit more on the accelerator, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t get home fast enough. “The way I see it, as long as you don’t have permission” — he grinned wickedly at Alec in the mirror — “you have to replace whatever it is you break.”

“Absolutely —”

“Q,” James cut in worriedly. “Do you _really_ want a feral werewolf shopping for you?”

“Sod off,” Alec said, grinning. He scratched Q’s arm again and leaned in to say, “Just because I set _one_ antique on fire —”

“One?”

“ _That time_. And it was an ugly sofa. I replaced it.”

Q laughed but didn’t respond. He was having too much fun listening to them banter. The feel of Alec’s fingers on him sent little pinpricks of electricity up his arm, and he couldn’t wait to get home so he could feel it over the rest of his body.

He wanted to reach out and touch Alec — or James — but after James' reaction to Alec’s touch earlier, Q was afraid of breaking the mood. Instead he did the only thing his distracted mind could think of at the moment: he threw the sportscar into fifth gear and floored it home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Saturday, 1 June 2013**

Q slid his hand off the biometric reader as the door unlocked with a soft click. He’d been told by previous lovers on a few different occasions that the reader seemed like overkill, especially with him being a vampire, but ever since he’d become a branch head for MI6, he’d treated his own personal security as if he were human. Vampire or not, there was no guarantee that whoever came into his flat wouldn’t be stronger or faster than him. The two werewolves behind him — who were crowded so close, he could feel their breath against his neck — were a perfect example.

“I had to modify the scanner when I installed it,” he commented, as he opened the door and stepped back to let them in. “I have fingerprints, obviously, but I had to adjust for my lower body temperature. We won’t talk about how I got locked out three times before I got all the bugs out.”

“Is that a hint to start by breaking down the door?” Alec asked as he rose, shifting out of the wolf form Q had insisted he take for the walk from the garage to the lift and up to the flat.

Q pushed the door closed and placed his keys on a wall hook. “I would very much prefer that you don’t. Not a whole lot to having a secure front door if there _is_ no front door.”

“Did you plan on being attacked tonight?” James asked over the sound of rustling cloth. When Q turned back, he saw James had already pulled off his borrowed T-shirt and had his hands at the flies of his tattered jeans.

“Other than by us?” Alec added.

Q frowned. “Are you really in that big of a hurry, James?” he asked as he watched the wolf undress. He’d thought they’d at least have a drink first.

James stubbornly shoved down his jeans so he could step out of them. “Two dressing gowns would be fine, if you’d prefer. Then I can run this” — he kicked at the pile of discarded clothes — “to the bins.”

Q waved vaguely at the two of them. “Oh, no. By all means, if we aren’t rushing, then please feel free to wander around naked.” He let his eyes travel avariciously up and down James’ strong frame. “ _I_ certainly have no objections.”

Smiling, James brushed his fingers down Q’s arm as he walked past, looking around with interest. The entryway let out into the middle of a long hallway. Q turned left, walked past one door, and led them into an immense living room. The wall to the right was entirely glass and let out onto a balcony that ran the length of the flat. To the left was an open kitchen with a curved granite breakfast bar and stainless steel appliances.

“Where’s this cage of yours?” Alec asked in a low growl.

“Guest bedroom — and it’s an inventory cage for my servers,” Q said dryly. “Nothing kinky or ominous.”

“It’s a nice flat,” James said, obviously changing the subject. “Well-stocked kitchen.”

“Does this mean we’re not ordering in?” Alec walked past on Q’s other side, heading for the nearest couch.

James couldn’t quite hide his sigh as he muttered, “Because _normal_ feral werewolves eat pizza in the wild all the time.”

“ _Normal_ ferals would eat the deliveryman, too,” Alec pointed out.

Q laughed and walked over to the bar tucked at one end of the kitchen. “Please tell me you two are aware that vampires can — and do — sometimes eat human food?” He took down a bottle of Knappogue Castle 1951, and three glasses. He heard the faintest brush of a bare foot on hardwood and knew James was following him, not Alec. “I mean, we don’t _need_ pizza, but neither do the humans, so...”

“ _You_ may not need pizza. If we’re not getting pizza, come distract me,” Alec insisted, not moving from where he’d sprawled comfortably on the couch.

From behind Q, James laughed. “Or we could distract ourselves and leave him to find someplace that delivers at this hour,” he suggested, tugging Q’s waistcoat up enough to run a finger over his waistband, barely touching skin.

Q sucked in a breath and tried not to lean back into the touch. “The Knight and Vessel. The owner, Sarah, loves me. She’s brought me both food _and_ blood before.” He noticed the way James’ finger hesitated for just a moment before continuing around to Q’s side. “And at whatever hour I call her. I think she likes feeding me. Then she knows where my food’s coming from.”

“You said you don’t feed from humans,” James said, his tone carefully neutral. Alec sat up, lifting his head to watch Q intently.

Q set the bottle and glasses down and brushed his fingers along James’ hand. He looked warily over at Alec, stealing a moment before he continued. He wasn’t sure he was ready for this conversation. “It’s... complicated. I don’t feed from humans, but I do drink human blood, as well as animal blood. Animals, I’ll take from. With humans, I’ll only drink what’s been donated through the proper channels.”

James slid his arms around Q’s body but didn’t pull Q close. “And werewolves?”

Q turned to look back at James. “I’ve been with werewolves, but I’ve never fed from them.”

Alec growled under his breath. “And what _exactly_ have you learned from your other wolves?” At Alec’s tone, James tensed, taking one step to the side as if ready to put himself between Alec and Q.

“Ah. That’s right, you don’t know about that,” Q said warily. While James would most likely be rational about Q’s past with werewolves, there was no telling how Alec would react. He was the more volatile of the two.

Q reached out to pick up the glasses and whiskey but stayed where he was next to James. He turned back to Alec and eyed him, assessing. “There have been a couple of wolves in my past, but it was more for fun than anything else. I didn’t _learn_ anything from them. Well, other than the fact that you don’t piss a werewolf off.” He shrugged. “But that’s fairly common knowledge.”

“When were the —”

“Alec, enough,” James interrupted. Alec’s glare was sharp enough to send any human running, but Q saw a hint of confusion underneath the abrupt anger. James’ arm, still circling Q’s waist, tightened, fingers twitching. In a calm, rational tone, James said, “We’ve all lived long enough to know the past doesn’t matter.”

Alec’s huff of breath didn’t quite disguise his growl. “It never did, before.”

Q touched a finger to James’ arm. “James, please,” he said softly. Reluctantly, James eased his hold, though he didn’t relax his vigilance. Q stepped out of the kitchen area and walked up to the back of the couch. He looked down questioningly at Alec, motioning with the bottle to the opposite end from where the wolf sat. “May I join you?”

“It’s your territory.”

Q sighed and stepped around the couch to sit down. Those three words reminded him again that he was dealing with a feral-born wolf, not a man who’d been born and raised to human culture. Alec seemed to be just as possessive of him as James, but that still didn’t mean the wolf trusted him. Even though Q had yet to lie to them, he hadn’t been forthcoming with information about himself, either. With a sense of resignation and a little trepidation, he decided it was time he started.

He set the glasses down on the coffee table and poured them each a healthy measure of amber liquid. It wasn’t the sort of whiskey one normally took as a shot, but that didn’t stop him from throwing the drink back in one go before pouring himself a second. He picked up one of the other glasses and handed it to Alec. James claimed the third and sat on the arm of the couch, close to Q, as if he were still wary of Alec’s behaviour.

Q settled back against the cushions, faced Alec, and said, “All right, ask. What do you want to know about me?”

Bluntly, Alec asked, “What are you?” As if in apology for Alec’s brusque tone, James put a hand on Q’s back, warm even through the waistcoat.

Q pushed back slightly against James’ hand in grateful acknowledgement. “A vampire,” came his equally blunt reply.

Alec bared his teeth. “You don’t stink like the other corpses.”

“Fuck. Alec, _enough_ ,” James snapped, clenching Q’s shoulder.

Q reached up with his free hand to rest it on James’. “No, James, really. It’s fine.” He gave James a reassuring smile before turning back to face Alec. “You’re right, I don’t. It’s to do with how I was turned — how I _responded_ to my becoming a vampire. I... I’ve never fed off of a human before. Ever.”

This time, it was James who spoke up before Alec. “How? I’ve seen what happens when a vampire goes too long without feeding.”

“Oh, I’ve fed.” Q barked out a short laugh. “I’ve just never fed on a human. Not directly, at any rate. When I was turned, I was repulsed at the idea of taking someone’s life force simply to feed my own. I couldn’t do it. So, the first time I actually fed, it was off a rabbit. My maker...” Q took a drink of his whiskey, resolutely not looking at either wolf. “She was desperate to keep me. So, after I constantly refused to feed on the humans she brought me, she turned to animals.”

“Is she still...” James trailed off.

“Dead. Long ago,” Q answered dismissively.

“But you feed on humans now,” Alec said, making a dismissive gesture. “It doesn’t matter if it’s direct from them or not.”

“Oh, but it does matter.” Feeling himself go still, Q reached for the bottle to get himself moving, only to realise he still had half a glass left. How the hell was he supposed to get through this conversation? “Believe it or not, there is a science behind what we are. Physics should make it impossible for either of you two to shift, but that’s how humans understand it. The scope of it is much bigger than that.” Q stood and slowly stepped up and over the table.

Once on the other side, Q paused and took a deep breath before turning to face them. He wasn’t concerned about what he had to say, but he’d never shared this part of himself with _anyone_. If they didn’t believe him, he had no idea what he would do.

Squaring his shoulders, he took a drink before he looked at them both in turn. “When a human eats, _what_ they eat has a direct effect on their physiology. If they eat horrible food, it has a horrible effect on them. The same is true for vampires. If we feed on a living human, we’re essentially draining their life force. Whether we kill them or not, it doesn’t matter. We become the bringers of death. Since we already are _dead_ , this only intensifies, making us smell like death. So you see, since I have never” — he waved a hand in their general direction — “ _brought_ death to a human, I don’t smell like it.”

Though both werewolves were watching him, it was James who got up. He walked quietly around the table and gently took the bottle from Q’s hand. He set it on the end table by Alec, but instead of sitting back down, he returned to Q’s side. As he slid his hand up Q’s back to his nape, he asked, “Why is this so upsetting?”

“Because up until two minutes ago, there was only one person in the world who knew that about me. And it was me.”

“We won’t reveal your secrets.”

Alec took a deep breath. “It doesn’t make a difference. You don’t stink like the others. No one else is going to fucking get close enough to find out.”

Q leaned in to nip at the underside of James’ jaw before pulling back. He glanced over at Alec, giving him a sad half-smile. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Almost every wolf I’ve ever come across can tell that I’m different. Vampires, as well. If they knew I’d never fed off of a human...” He looked back and forth between the two. “It would make me seem weak in both their eyes. I’m no longer a predator, at that point; I’m prey.”

James pulled Q close, fingers pressing hard against Q’s back. “No one will hurt you,” he growled, ducking his head to bite at Q’s throat.

Q bit back a whimper as he pressed into James’ mouth. He slid his fingers up into James’ hair, scratching against his scalp. “Promise?” he asked, his voice already rough. Subtly, he reached out with his other hand and beckoned to Alec.

“We’ll kill anyone who tries,” James said, still holding Q tightly. Q heard Alec stand and move, but he couldn’t see without pulling away from James. Ignoring Q’s hand, Alec slid his fingers up into Q’s hair and twisted.

“You’re ours,” Alec said, and the words came out like a threat. Before Q could respond, Alec tugged at Q’s hair, leaned in, and bit his nape hard, hard enough that a human would have bled.

Q should have been afraid. He had a wolf on either side of him sinking teeth into his throat. Really, he should have been afraid.

He wasn’t.

Letting out a slow, sensual hiss, Q dropped his fangs and reached back to wrap his other arm around Alec. He pulled both wolves closer, luxuriating in the feel of their mouths pressing deeper into his skin. It suddenly occurred to him how absolutely unfortunate it was that he wasn’t naked.

“Clothes,” he breathed out. “Get them off of me. Now.”

James pulled back and reached for the buttons holding the waistcoat closed, only to freeze when the material jerked up out of his hands with a sharp tearing sound. Q felt cold, hard claws swipe down his back, ripping the cloth to shreds, and he silently whimpered at the loss of his favourite waistcoat.

He let go of both wolves and tried to twist free to pull the ruined waistcoat off, but Alec just bit harder, holding him in place. He reached back up to run a hand through Alec’s hair. “Alec, love, I’m trying to strip here. You’ve stopped helping.”

Alec growled hot against Q’s skin, biting even harder. His claws dropped to the trousers, piercing the PVC without ever touching flesh. James swore quietly and backed away so he could get at Q’s flies as Alec tried to shred the PVC.

Wary of Alec’s claws, Q pressed back into the wolf and slid his hands up Alec’s thighs. Slowly, he reached around to grasp at Alec’s arse. “Sorry, but you already made fine work of my waistcoat. I think it’s time you let James have a go at the rest of it.”

This time, James interrupted Alec’s insistent growl, saying, “Trousers and boots, Alec.”

Alec huffed and pressed his tongue to the skin trapped between his teeth. Electricity shot down Q’s spine, and Alec growled again. He pulled his claws out of the PVC and wrapped his arms around Q’s body, crushing Q back against his chest.

“Fuck, Q, could these be tighter?” James complained as he got the zipper down.

“Yes they could, actually. I have another pair two sizes smaller.” Q tilted his head forward to expose more of his neck and was rewarded as Alec’s bite deepened. He tried not to hiss as he said, “Feel free to just rip them off. The waistcoat I liked, but everything’s replaceable.”

Alec’s fingers curled, pressing the backs of his claws against Q’s abdomen. Q tensed, despite himself, but almost instantly he recognised Alec’s growl as satisfied, less urgent and demanding. He crowed at the realisation that he was beginning to understand his werewolves.

With a quiet laugh that Q almost missed, James carefully split the seams of Q’s trousers and stripped off the clinging PVC. He said something about boot laces, but Alec’s fingers, still clawed, inched up Q’s chest and circled his nipple, and the light brush across seemed to complete a circuit from Alec’s mouth to his hand and back, stealing Q’s breath.

“Fuck, Alec,” Q whispered as he dragged in air. “I have to — I need to get my boots off,” he stuttered.

“I’ve got them,” James said. He took hold of Q’s ankle and lifted to ease his foot out of the boot. Only then did Q realise he’d sliced off the laces. As James pulled off the other boot, Alec kept moving his hands, teasing his claws over Q’s skin with light scratches.

Q reached up and lightly ran his fingers over Alec’s claws. “Be careful,” he whispered, hoping Alec would hear the trust behind the request. Then he slowly exhaled as he pressed the claws further into his skin, luxuriating in the dual sensations of pain and electricity that came with it.

Alec released the bite long enough to growl, “You’re not fragile. You can take it.” After a single lick, he bit again, curling his fingers so his claws barely cut into Q’s flesh. Q hissed at the slight pain but didn’t pull away.

James rose and ran his hands over Q’s chest to his shoulders. “He’s right,” he said quietly. “If we do this, we won’t hold back.”

Q looked up into James’ eyes, the blue almost completely lost under the gold. His breath caught at the seriousness he saw there. They really wouldn’t hold back — not that he wanted them to. He wanted this as much as they did. And if they were willing to be themselves, then maybe both wolves trusted Q more than he’d originally thought.

With a small, slightly hysterical laugh, Q finally opened his mouth to speak. “As long as I walk away with all limbs intact and I don’t end up _more_ dead than I already am, I think we’re good.”

 

~~~

 

 _Be careful,_ James thought, nuzzling at Q’s throat, losing himself in Q’s energy and scent and _want_. Q wasn’t a werewolf. James had killed vampires before, but always in a half-remembered frenzy of bloodlust. He’d never tried _not_ to kill one. He had no idea where the line was between too much and not enough.

It took him — a trained field agent — a deplorably long time to realise Alec had cut Q’s skin, but there was no blood-scent that James could detect. He’d heard the subtly quiet sound of skin parting under werewolf claws, but Q wasn’t bleeding. _Later_ , he told himself. He’d ask later, if he remembered. For now, he was almost overwhelmed by the feel of Q’s body, Q’s hands, Q’s mouth.

“Bed,” Alec growled, turning one hand to press claws against James’ chest. James had to bite back a snarl — he didn’t want to release Q, but moving this to the bedroom was an unusually good idea coming from a feral wolf.

James backed away, moving his hands up to Q’s face. “Any objections?” he asked, though he knew the wording was far from romantic; it was barely even polite.

Q licked at his lips, eyes fixed on James’ mouth. With a small shake of his head, he said, “None whatsoever.”

With any other lover, James would have pulled Q into a kiss — an idea that wasn’t nearly as repulsive as it had been. It was, he supposed, inevitable. James was a sensual werewolf, one who delighted in the pleasure he could give and take. The thought that he had yet to kiss Q, despite their previous intimacy...

Before he could reconsider, he slid a hand to Q’s nape and pulled Q out of Alec’s arms. One last shiver, and then he brushed his lips to Q’s.

Cool. Soft, softer than James had expected. Little sparks of lightning wisping over him, through him. Deep inside, James’ growl was of satisfaction, not bloodlust.

Q pressed into the kiss and wrapped his arms around James’ back, holding tight. He dragged his nails down James’ back hard enough to leave welts across his skin. James licked across Q’s lips again, and this time, when Q opened his mouth, James touched his tongue to Q’s teeth.

His fangs.

James hesitated, telling himself he should have expected this. Q had warned them that he couldn’t completely control when they dropped down.

Q stilled in his arms before he finally, slowly, pulled back. One of his hands slipped from James’ back and rested gently against his cheek. “James?” Q asked softly.

James shook his head and met Q’s eyes, reminding himself that Q wasn’t attacking. He was safe.

But before James could act, Alec asked, “Distracted already?”

Q smiled at James and said, “It seems James forgot what causes my fangs to drop. Think I scared him,” he teased.

James growled, claws sliding out. Scared? He bared his teeth at Alec and said, “I didn’t realise we were in a rush.” A sharp tug let him switch places with Q, blocking Alec.

Remembering there was no need to hold back, James gave Q a push that would’ve sent a human crashing into the furniture. Instead, Q stumbled back a couple of steps before he regained his footing.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that, James,” Q challenged, grinning wickedly. He leaped backwards without looking, to land perfectly on the back edge of a leather chair. The chair rocked but didn’t tip; Q found his balance in a low crouch, inhumanly flexible.

James took a step closer, entranced by Q’s grace. Before he could take a second step, though, Q pushed off the chair, vaulted over an end table, and crossed the room in six steps too quick for a human to have seen. At the hallway, he turned and smiled smugly at James and Alec. “It’s funny how you two think you could catch me,” he said with a little laugh. “We really must put that to the test one day.”

Alec’s growl was amused, not threatening, but it was too close to the wolf. James put a hand out, reaching back until he found Alec and pulled him close. “No shifting,” James said quietly, never looking away from Q. Gorgeous, confident, deadly. “We’re not wasting tonight the way we did last time.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Q called from across the room. “The fact that you two are over _there_ ” — he waved in their direction — “and not over _here_ ” — he waved back toward the hallway — “seems like an awful waste of the evening to me.”

Reasonable provocation be damned. James scratched at Alec’s arm in warning before he rushed at Q, going over the furniture — far less gracefully — rather than around it. The chair crashed to the floor. Following close on James’ heels, Alec rocked the couch and sent a lamp flying; the bulb shattered, sending shards of glass everywhere.

With a delighted laugh, Q dove through the nearest door, into a bedroom. He hit the bed just as James and Alec came crashing through the doorway behind him. Using the mattress as a springboard, he pushed off and leapt over James and Alec. James snarled in irritation and turned to go after Q, who landed in front of the chaise by a sliding glass door that let out onto a balcony.

Q shook his head slowly and mock-frowned at them. “Tsk, tsk, boys. All I get is an overturned chair and a broken —”

After seventy years together, James and Alec had no need to coordinate. They rushed Q and took him down at the same time, fighting to pin the vampire under them. James pulled back his claws, though he couldn’t hide them away; a hiss implied Alec wasn’t being so careful.

Q twisted to try and free himself, but James and Alec had him trapped between them, holding down his arms and legs. He tried to pull his arms free, but when they didn’t budge, he glared at the two of them and let out a ferocious hiss.

This time, James didn’t hesitate to silence him with a kiss. The hiss died on Q’s lips, and James could feel the smile that took its place. Q struggled to break free again, but this time it was to lean into the kiss. He licked along the seam of James’ lips, coaxing James to open his mouth as well. James gave in, claws shredding the edge of the nearby rug as he forced himself to look past the coldness, to remember that Q was _different_. Not alive, no, but not dead, either.

 

~~~

 

Q let his head fall back with a hard _thunk_. As he continued to stare at James, he watched the last of the blue fade from the wolf’s eyes into a deep, vibrant gold. In the beginning, the sight would have set Q on edge, wary of a possible shift and an attack.

But not now. Now he knew better.

Q felt his cock twitch as he let the lust in James’ eyes burn into him. He grinned, making sure his fangs showed. “You’re not stopping, are you? You don’t strike me as one of those creatures who’s all about the chase until they catch their prey, only to get bored.” He leaned up, feeling the pull in his arms where both wolves held him down. “I really was expecting more from you, 007.” He flicked a glance in Alec’s direction. “You too, 006.”

“Are we doing this on the floor? Not exactly a suite at the Savoy,” James said, grinning fiercely as he tightened his grip on Q’s arm.

“Well, neither was the room at that wolf hotel of yours. And neither was the private room at Hydra Code earlier tonight.” Q grinned viciously at James, hoping to stir some of that possessiveness in him.

“Private room?” Alec asked sharply. His fingers twitched; claws pressed to Q’s skin, though they didn’t cut.

Q turned and smiled easily up at Alec. “Oh, yes, 006. I was right in the middle of chatting up this lovely human girl when _you two_ had to go and get yourselves arrested.” He shrugged as best he could, the movement digging Alec’s claws in deeper. “Ah, well. Seems it worked out for everyone involved, didn’t it.”

“You still should have called us,” James insisted. Though he sounded rational, Q could still hear the edge of jealousy in his voice. “It would’ve saved you a trip to the Yard.”

Q huffed in mild annoyance. “You were _supposed_ to be resting. There’s no reason I should have to curb my fun just because you two were on bed rest — or so I thought. I should have known better than to believe you’d actually adhere to that.” He tugged again and was more than a little surprised when his arm pulled free from James’ grip. He didn’t hesitate to pull his leg free as well.

He glanced over to find James staring at him. His breath caught at the trust he saw there. He’d always known James would be easier to deal with, but he’d never expected the wolf to have complete faith in him. He’d just figured there would forever be a trace of doubt over the fact that he was a vampire.

Q breathed out and turned to look at Alec. The exact reticence he’d expected to see was still reflected in his other wolf’s eyes. Alec was just too feral, too primal. If Q wanted Alec to trust him, he would have to show that he could take control _without_ taking advantage.

With a new kind of determination, Q used Alec’s still-tight hold as leverage, rolled Alec onto his back, and turned to straddle Alec’s body. The wolf tensed but didn’t throw Q off.

He smiled, slowly tracing his fingers down the side of Alec’s face as he stared into equally golden eyes. “Then again, my mistake, assuming you’d find me when you were healed.”

Claws scraped over Q’s hips. “You should have come to us,” Alec challenged, scratching up to take hold of Q’s waist.

James rolled onto his side and propped up on one arm, watching. “Or we could all stop bloody discussing this and either take this to the bed or move things along right here,” he said, resting his hand on the back of Q’s thigh, fingers trailing right up to the curve of his arse.

Q didn’t bother answering James; he wasn’t done with Alec. “You’re right, Alec, I could have come to you.” he answered softly. “But you’ve been wary of me ever since we met. You weren’t ready to let me run with you, not really. You would have tried to stop me.” He leaned in close enough to mingle his breath with Alec’s, never breaking eye contact. “Are you going to stop me now?”

Alec’s hands pressed against Q’s waist. “Are you going to be _interesting_ or are we still fucking around?” he countered gruffly.

Q was done waiting. And he was done fucking around. He closed the final distance and kissed his other wolf, hard and demanding. Alec drew in a breath as though surprised. Then he growled, and claws dug into Q’s sides, breaking skin.

Q bit back a whimper and wrapped his hand around the nape of Alec’s neck, holding him in place. He ran his tongue along Alec’s mouth, delighting in the feel of chapped, rough lips, so unlike James’. When Alec didn’t open his mouth in response, Q slowly broke off.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, just as softly as before.

Alec took another breath, this one strained and ragged. His fingers twitched, stinging Q’s sides. His answering growl held a barely distinguishable, “No,” that cut off as he bit Q’s bottom lip hard.

This time, Q couldn’t hide the whimper that escaped. He wrapped both hands around Alec’s head, scratching into his scalp, deepening the kiss. Alec still wouldn’t open his mouth for him, but Q knew it had nothing to do with trust and everything to do with a werewolf’s natural revulsion for vampires. Q wasn’t like others of his kind, but that wasn’t going to stop a lifetime of instinct.

“Alec,” Q breathed, breaking the kiss. He licked along Alec’s jaw as he arched his back to drag his cock along Alec’s. “I’m here for you. You and James, both.” He glanced at James out of the corner of his eye. “ _Let me in_.”

With another growl, this one nearly desperate, Alec closed his eyes and dragged his tongue over Q’s lower lip. Q held still, waiting for Alec to pull away or demand more, but Alec simply repeated the lick, this time more slowly. His hands relaxed, scratching lightly this time as he wrapped his arms around Q’s back.

Q smiled and leaned down into the kiss. He reached out blindly for James, needing his other wolf close. James’ hand inched higher, teasing between Q’s legs. The feel of his fingers made Q gasp, and Alec’s tongue touched Q’s.

If Q had been human, the electrical surge he felt would have thrown him off. He cried out at the intensity, but the sound was lost in Alec’s mouth. Q dipped his tongue in again, and as it made contact with Alec’s, the surge of power coursed through him, sparking every nerve ending to life.

James bit Q’s shoulder and pushed his hand further between Q’s legs. Holding Q tightly with one arm, Alec slid his other hand up to Q’s nape, no longer holding back as he returned the kiss.

But that didn’t stop _Q_ from holding back. He was suddenly wary of the fact that he couldn’t pull his fangs back in if he wanted to — a problem that hadn’t occurred for him since he was a new vampire. He kissed Alec back, feeling the electricity hum along his skin. But he kept the kiss light, refusing to take that chance that he might bite Alec’s lip. He’d worked too hard to gain this much acceptance. He wasn’t about to lose it now.

If he wanted Alec to trust him, Alec needed to first accept him. He slowly pulled back, gazed down at the wolf, and smiled, making no effort to hide his fangs, though he worked to keep any threat out of his expression. Alec’s eyes snapped right to the fangs, and Q felt Alec’s body tense. But he didn’t push Q away, and the touch of his claws stayed gentle.

After a few beats of Alec’s racing heart, Q threaded his fingers into blond hair, tightening his grip. He held Alec still and said calmly, “I’m going to fuck you now. Or I’m going to fuck him.” He nodded his head toward James. “Will there be a problem with that?”

“No.” It was James who answered, not Alec. He moved his hand from between Q’s legs to his nape and leaned in to brush his lips over Q’s. “I’ll admit, I’ve been curious about how you’d feel.”

Q hummed and smiled into James’ kiss. “Well, if you must know, I’ve been told that the cold of our bodies tends to... take the edge off.” He sat up, straddling Alec’s thighs, and pulled James close for a deeper kiss. Alec’s hands slid down to stroke over Q’s legs, and Q could feel him watching intently. When the kiss broke naturally, Q leaned back, eyes flicking between both wolves, before setting back on James. “But if I’m going to fuck you, then afterwards, I want to watch _you_ fuck _him_.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Saturday, 1 June 2013**

Alec stared up at Q and James, thinking that relief ‘took the edge off’ just as effectively as the thought of Q... He could barely even _think_ of having Q, no matter how he tried to convince himself that Q’s lack of living warmth and a beating heart meant nothing. He didn’t know what was worse — the thought of being inside Q or the reverse — and Q’s words, though delivered as a challenge, felt more like a reprieve. And _that_ turned relief into guilt, because Alec had never been one to let James take a bullet in his place.

But James didn’t seem to mind at all. He threw himself into Q’s kiss with the sort of enthusiasm Alec hadn’t seen for ages. Understandable. This was _new_ in a way that nothing had been for over half a century. And Q would have caught their eye even if he’d been alive. _Especially_ if he’d been alive. Alec would’ve been damned tempted to bite him — to make him theirs.

Q traced his fingers along Alec’s chest, circling around one nipple before moving to the other side. He leaned in to press his teeth along James’ neck. Alec watched as Q scraped his teeth along James’ shoulder, but he never broke skin. He barely left welts.

“Harder,” Alec said before he realised he’d spoken. He dragged in a breath and said, “Stop being so fucking gentle. You’re not going to break him.”

Q looked over at Alec in surprise. When it was clear Alec meant what he said, Q smiled and turned to face James. “This may hurt just a little bit,” he whispered, and dragged his teeth across James’ shoulder, hard enough to break a few layers of skin, but still managing not to draw blood. James’ growl was deeper, burning through Alec’s guilt. This was what they both needed — for Q to not pretend they were human. Any of them.

And Q hadn’t _bitten_. He hadn’t surrendered to the temptation of James’ blood. Alec hadn’t known he was testing Q’s self-control until he’d passed.

Swearing quietly, James tangled one hand in Q’s hair and pulled Q back into a kiss. Alec sat up, trying not to push Q all the way off. Determined not to be outdone, he put his hand over James’, took hold, and pulled, breaking the kiss.

Alec tried for a kiss, but without missing a beat, Q pressed his mouth against Alec’s neck instead. Ice crept down Alec’s spine at the thought of fangs so close to his throat, but he’d barely started to growl out a warning — a courtesy he’d _never_ thought to give any vampire — before James’ fingers wrapped around his wrist. The heat of that familiar touch calmed Alec, though he couldn’t hide his shiver when Q turned and dragged his fangs over one shoulder. The scrape was too much and not enough, making Alec hate himself for wanting more.

Q lifted his head and met Alec’s eyes for a moment. Then he ran his fingers through Alec’s hair and breathed softly into his ear, “Was that what you wanted, Trevelyan?”

That hadn’t been his intent — the last vampire who’d touched his fangs to Alec’s flesh had died badly — but _want_... Q was no fragile human, unable to give or take enough intensity to hold Alec’s interest for long. And as soon as Alec put aside his thoughts of Q as a vampire, he was able to think of how much _more_ Q could do.

He answered with a kiss, forgetting for heated, overwhelming moments that Q had fangs. He made no effort to be careful, instead revelling in the sparks that shocked down into his body at the brush of Q’s tongue. Before the kiss could end naturally, Alec pulled back to bite at Q’s lower lip again, hard enough that he would’ve drawn blood from a human.

Q inhaled sharply but didn’t move, allowing Alec to bite as hard as he liked. When Alec finally let go, Q tightened his fingers in Alec’s hair to hold him in place. Q regarded him as he slowly flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip. “No broken skin, I see,” he noted. “Is that really all you’ve got?”

Alec’s skin tingled with the prickle of fur. He forced himself back, pulling away from Q’s grasp, though he left behind strands of long gold hair. “You’re not the only one who wants to watch tonight,” he said, the words almost lost in a growl.

Smirking, Q twisted away, swinging his legs in one fluid motion to straddle James instead. Alec turned towards the chaise and leaped at it, almost overturning it as he shifted to land on four massive paws. The cushions tore under his claws, and the frame creaked under his weight.

But he settled into his fur and onto the chaise, feeling the tension drain from his body. No bloodlust, he realised with curious detachment. He watched James sit up to pull Q’s body close. As they kissed, Alec rested his head on a throw pillow, mouth open enough that he could taste the air. James was familiar, a comfort; Q was a storm, contained but not safe at all. Alec accepted them both. He felt no desperate need to charge in and separate them or protect James, even though he knew Q’s fangs were out.

Q was all over James, petting and licking, laying kisses over his throat — kisses that James encouraged, tipping his head back, with no sign of fear or caution. That trust paid off when Q backed away just enough to stare into James’ eyes, and Alec saw there wasn’t a hint of drawn blood. “God, I want to fuck you so badly,” Q ground out. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the museum.”

“What are you waiting for?”

James’ answer was all Q needed — and all Alec needed, because he knew, with the instincts of a born wolf, just how much James wanted this.

 

~~~

 

Thrusting into James’ body — _his_ werewolf’s body — for the first time was like coming home. Right here, right now, this was where Q belonged. James didn’t hesitate or protest or even make a token show of fighting back. Instead, he pushed off the mattress to reach back and pull Q in closer, deeper, as if he wanted this just as much as Q. He could have recoiled at Q’s touch — could have fought Q off, attacked him. But all Q felt as he buried himself to the hilt was total acceptance.

And Alec, in his deadly wolf form, didn’t move from the chaise. He watched, gold eyes bright and intense, but his body was relaxed, hackles down, ears perked forward. Q was no expert on wolf body language, but he knew Alec had accepted this — with James if not with himself. Yet.

He pulled out slowly before thrusting back in, harder this time. “I have no intention of going easy on you,” he said as he dug his nails into James’ hips. He could _feel_ James’ growl as he braced himself to push back. He had his claws out, but Q expected it, even welcomed it. Earlier, James had encouraged Alec to use his claws on Q; he was even less likely to actually hurt Q while they were out.

As Q thrust in again, James dug his claws into the mattress, sending down feathers flying before he cut through the layers, all the way down to the springs. Still watching from the chaise, Alec let out a bark that sounded like laughter.

Q looked over at Alec, his eyes narrowed, although he couldn’t hide the little half-smile that played across his face. “Shut it, wolf. I have excellent aim, and if you don’t play nice, I _will_ throw my bedside lamp at your head.”

He felt a surge of tension before James twisted around to look over his shoulder at Q. A hint of uncertainty showed in his expression. “Distracted already?” he asked sharply.

Q smiled at James but didn’t move. He found it more than a little charming that James — a secret agent who could have whoever he wanted — even knew how to be insecure. “Don’t be jealous,” Q whispered. “Someone has to keep the wolf in line so I can fuck you properly.”

To show his intent, Q leaned over and scored his teeth down James’ back. James shivered and arched his spine. The move lowered his head and bared his nape. It reminded Q of the way Alec had bitten down on _his_ neck earlier, as if trying to take control. Did this mean James was submitting to him?

Q grinned in satisfaction. James trusted Q enough to _offer_ Q his neck. Possessively, Q wanted to bend down and sink his teeth into James — to mark him and show the world that this wolf belonged to him.

But not until they were ready.

“God, James. You look so beautiful like this,” Q murmured as he thrust back in. James didn’t just look incredible; he felt amazing. Tight heat and electricity thrummed back into Q, and his whole world narrowed down to the point where his body connected with James’. Wanting James to feel it, too, Q slowly pulled almost all the way out, letting his cock drag along James’ prostate as he went.

James muttered, “Fuck,” under his breath, but what caught Q’s attention was Alec’s growl at the same moment. Q remembered his conversation with Danielle about Alec and James being blood oathed to each other and wondered just how deep that connection went.

Reaching back, James scratched his claws over Q’s hip and gruffly warned, “Too much of that, and Alec will have to wait.”

Q let out a shaky breath, revelling in the pleasure he was bringing his wolf. “Will he?” He snapped his hips forward, and James’ claws dug in hard. “Are you sure you can’t hold out?”

“Q...” The name trailed off into another growl.

Q grabbed James’ claws to push them in further. As the delicious pain washed over him, he leaned over and whispered into James’ ear, “What part of ‘I’m going to fuck you’ did you not understand?”

“Oh, fuck. Q.” Claws ripped through one of the mattress springs, releasing it with a metallic screech. With a ragged exhale, he pushed back onto Q, his other hand clenching hard enough to break skin and find blood underneath.

A hiss escaped Q as the pain in his hip tore through him like fire. It was exceptionally difficult to damage a vampire enough to draw blood, but when it happened, it was excruciating. He dug his fingers into James’ sides and leaned over to rest his head between the wolf’s shoulderblades.

He wanted to hide it. He didn’t want either of them to know how bad the pain was. They would forever treat him as breakable if they thought for even a moment he might be.

With a deep breath, Q knelt back up behind James. He pulled out just enough to drive back in punishingly hard. James let out a purely human groan and dropped his hand from Q’s hip to brace against the mattress. Lost in pleasure, he didn’t react to the drops of blood scattered over the sheets or clinging to his fingers.

But Alec did. He let out a quiet growl, and the chaise creaked. Q looked up in time to see Alec gracefully drop down to the floor, his gold eyes never leaving James’ hand.

Q stilled as he watched the wolf inch closer. “Alec?” he questioned.

The wolf flowed up onto the bed, barely rocking the mattress. James lifted his head to watch, but Alec had turned his gaze on Q instead, never looking away as he moved in front of James. Then he eased himself down, and James leaned to one side, freeing his unbloodied hand to touch Alec’s fur. Alec’s jaws closed around James’ upper arm, and James snarled, body tensing. Q saw James’ claws dig into Alec’s fur.

Q blinked in confusion — he knew he was missing something — but he was too far gone to ask. He started pounding into James mercilessly, chasing the fire that burned through him. He wasn’t going to last long, and if he wasn’t going to last, he was determined to drag James over the edge with him, to feel his wolf’s surrender.

He flattened a hand on James’ back and steadily pushed down, raising James’ arse and changing the angle of Q’s thrusts. When James let out a broken snarl, Q pinned him in place, one hand on his nape, relentless in his need to take everything his wolf could give.

The power building between them crashed over James first. His shout was almost lost under Alec’s growl, and the sharp, sweet scent of werewolf blood filled the air as James’ body went tight, pulsing around Q’s cock. Q inhaled before he could check himself, and the faint taste that washed over his tongue was enough to break his self-control almost completely. Everything went black under pleasure more intense than anything Q had imagined, either as a living man or as an immortal vampire.

Q’s bit down on the scream that threatened to rip out of him as he came. He tasted blood where his fangs pierced into his bottom lip. The pain and the smell of his wolf’s blood — he had no idea which of them was bleeding — overwhelmed him, and for one insane second Q thought he might pass out from the sheer intensity of it all.

He took a deep breath, only to be hit with the intoxicating scent of blood again. He leaned over James to rest his head between James’ shoulderblades. “Whose blood is that?” he asked shakily.

“Shit,” James growled. He let out a huff and drew away from Q, making Q hiss from oversensitivity. As Q went still and stopped breathing, James dropped onto his side next to the wolf. Alec turned his head and started licking at his fur. James put his hand beside the bloody spots on Alec’s pale fur and said, “Sorry. He’ll be all right in a few minutes.”

“You know, when I said you could tear my place apart, that wasn’t meant to include each other,” Q scolded. “Especially when one of you was only supposed to be _watching_.”

Twisting against the damaged mattress, Alec rolled onto his back, away from Q, and shifted into human form. Four shallow wounds on his left side were still bleeding sluggishly, but the damage was nothing like the last time they’d been together. “It happens,” he said, kicking his legs over the edge of the bed so he could stand. He nodded in the direction of the en suite door at the back of the bedroom. “Loo that way?”

Q nodded in response, taking a deep, steady breath. When Alec was in the en suite, Q turned back to James and smiled. “Looks like Alec _will_ just have to wait his turn, won’t he?”

“Don’t be such a smug bastard. One of you is bad enough.” James sat up enough to get his arms around Q and pulled him close. “Are _you_ all right? We hadn’t planned on anyone ending up bloody tonight.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Q half-lied. He glanced back at his own puncture wounds, pleased to see they were already healing over. “We’re supernatural, James. It happens.” He looked back up at James and shrugged. “I only feel bad for Alec because he got all of the pain and none of the accompanying pleasure.”

“Consider it payback for seventy years of him being a self-centred arse,” James said, though Q knew he wasn’t serious. After a brief kiss, he let go of Q and stood up. “But I’ll go check on him. And shower, if you don’t mind?”

Q stood up as well and faced James, lightly brushing his arm. “Why don’t you let me go check on him? He’s never going to fully trust me if you’re always in the middle.”

James frowned. “If he decides you’re a threat... He’s trained to kill vampires. We both are.”

“He won’t hurt me, James.” Q wrapped his arms around his wolf’s shoulders. “And not just because I don’t think he sees me as a threat anymore, but also because I have no plans to actually be one.”

Before, James might have argued; now, he just gave Q another kiss and said, “If you need me, just shout. Guest bathroom?”

Q smiled with relief. “Across the hall to your left. And don’t worry. If I need you, I’ll most likely be shouting before I even realize I’m doing it.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Saturday, 1 June 2013**

Q hesitated at the door to the en suite. He reached for the handle but let his hand drop down, unsure if he was ready to face his other wolf alone. Alec was clearly becoming more comfortable with Q, but never in a confined space and _always_ with James present. Would he even let Q in?

He wanted both of them. He wanted both of them equally, but he was beginning to worry that he might actually be getting between them. James might have fought for Alec back at the hotel, but tonight he had been more than willing to let Alec sit on the sidelines. That was never supposed to happen. He wanted it to be the three of them, not him and James with Alec around for convenience when they got bored. The very idea made Q shudder.

Determined to fix this, Q knocked lightly on the door. “Alec?” he called out. “May I come in?”

After a moment, the sink shut off, and Alec opened the door. “Sorry.” He stepped aside so Q could enter, though he stayed by the door as if prepared to leave. He was holding one of Q’s towels to his side. “Where’s James?”

“He went to take a shower in the guest bathroom. May I take a look at that?” Q asked, nodding at Alec’s side as he slid past. He turned and faced Alec expectantly. He wanted Alec to stay, but the choice had to be his. No one would be body-blocking anyone this time.

“It’s stopped bleeding,” Alec said dismissively, as Q had expected. He’d heard similar words over the comms from all the agents — especially the werewolves — more times than he could count. But Alec didn’t leave; he pulled the towel away and looked down at scabs covering wounds that really were no longer bleeding. “Claws are nothing. It’s bites that cause problems.”

“Well, I won’t be biting you, so you don’t need to worry about that.” Q glanced in the direction of his large, glass-walled shower before turning to face Alec. He leaned back against the counter, open and inviting. “Feel like helping me wash up, then?”

“I should go check on James,” Alec answered. His eyes travelled down the length of Q’s body, but he didn’t step away from the door; he didn’t come any closer. As Q watched, he saw a flicker of something cross Alec’s face, a sort of sadness. He obviously wanted Q, but he didn’t look like he had any intention of taking. He looked almost like he was... _pining_.

A wave of guilt and regret came crashing down over Q. He had been right; he really _had_ come between Alec and James.

Without hesitating, Q pushed off the counter and crossed the small space to stand in front of his other wolf. He brought his hands up to touch either side of Alec’s face. “You think I don’t want you. You think I only want James now.” Alec opened his mouth to protest, but Q cut him off. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Alec stared at Q and reached back to quietly close the door. “James and I have been together for a long time. Nothing lasts forever — not even for immortals. Do you really think I can’t see what’s going on between you two?”

Q huffed out a small laugh, letting his hands fall. “Of course you can. And the same thing _would_ be going on between the two of us, but you trust me less than he does. If you weren’t such an unbelievably stubborn pain in the arse, you would be able to see that, too.”

Instead of answering immediately, Alec glanced at the door, though he made no attempt to leave. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, turning his attention back to Q. “You’re a vampire. You’re a _different_ vampire, so maybe we don’t want to tear you apart on sight, but you’re still a vampire, and we’re werewolves. James could have torn you apart and not even realised it, if I hadn’t given him another target.”

“Well, that’s your problem right there, then, isn’t it? You think I’m fragile.” Q wrapped his fingers around Alec’s forearms and gave a gentle tug, pulling them apart. “But I’m not fragile. I’m not easily broken.” He slid his fingers down to rest on Alec’s wrists before holding up his hands. He looked evenly at Alec and said, “Claws, please.”

A shiver went through Alec’s body. He turned to take gentle hold of Q’s wrists, claws hidden away. “I know you’re not fragile. You wouldn’t have survived if you were, no matter your diet.”

“Alec. Claws out,” Q commanded, ignoring Alec’s comment. “Now.”

Alec’s still-human hands clenched tight. He crowded close, and Q watched as all the green bled out of his eyes, leaving them a brilliant, inhuman gold. “Don’t,” he said quietly. “You might not be scared of me hurting you, but _I am_.”

“Why?”

“Because I _want_ to,” he said just as steadily, as if he weren’t on the verge of slipping into his true form. “Because I was trained to hunt your kind. To hurt you.” He forced his fingers to relax and let go of Q’s right wrist, though he still held the left with bruising force. He leaned in and inhaled, rubbing his face against Q’s hair. “I want you too badly to be safe.”

Q turned his head to kiss Alec’s neck. Then he pulled his fangs in before he nipped lightly at where his lips had just been. Alec tensed, hand clenching around Q’s wrist, though he didn’t pull away. “I don’t want you to be safe. I want you to be yourself. I want you to trust that _I want this, too_.”

“Q...” Alec ducked his head to press his mouth to Q’s bare shoulder, muffling the growl that slipped out before he bit.

Q hissed and pushed up into the bite. Alec hadn’t bitten hard enough to break skin, so the pain was good — delicious even.

Q wrapped his free arm around Alec’s shoulders and pulled him in tighter. He wanted to turn again and lick Alec’s ear, to bite the shell and hold his wolf in place. But for the moment, he needed to let Alec take the lead. Alec needed to learn to trust himself before Q could even think about taking back control.

As though encouraged, Alec slid his hand up into Q’s hair, releasing the bite just long enough to turn, biting at Q’s throat instead. A sharp, sudden growl was all the warning Q had before Alec stepped back and twisted, breaking Q’s embrace.

Q’s chest hit the wall, arm twisted behind his back, held by his own grip on Alec’s wrist. Alec pinned him there, breath hot against Q’s ear, skin burning between them where their bodies touched, Alec’s hard cock fitted against the upper curve of Q’s arse, just touching the small of his back.

Q grinned and let out a short, sharp laugh. “You know, Trevelyan, I will be highly disappointed in you if that’s the best you can do,” he challenged as he pushed his arse back against Alec’s cock. “ _I want this, too_.”

This time, Alec bit Q’s nape, teeth digging in as though to hold Q in place. He dropped his free hand between their bodies, fingers sliding over Q’s arse. With one knee, he pushed Q’s legs apart, reaching down between them. His fingers brushed Q’s entrance once before he pushed in, with just the tip.

“So now you actually want to fuck me, is that it?” Q breathed out. He pushed his arse back again, encouraging Alec to go further. Lube could wait; for now, he wanted to feel the burn.

Alec’s only answer was another muffled growl. He roughly pushed one finger in, leaning against Q’s body. Only when his hand pressed against Q’s arse, finger curling deep inside, did he release the bite and growl, “Are you saying no?”

Q twisted around as best he could to catch Alec’s eye; the shift along his prostate sparked his own sated cock back to life. “My only limitation is the bottle of lube currently tucked away in there.” He tilted his head in the direction of his medicine cabinet. “Let’s retrieve it so we can get on with this, shall we?”

Alec released him with a snarl. Cold air slid over Q’s skin like ice in the absence of his warmth. The mirrored cabinet door shattered when it hit the wall, torn from its hinges. Two shelves worth of toiletries scattered as Alec carelessly swiped the bottle of lubricant from its place on the bottom shelf.

Q leaned back against the wall and laughed viciously, delighted at the sight of his other wolf _finally_ letting go. “That’s a good boy. Just try not to break the shower walls, though.” He glanced at the three glass sides of his shower cubicle. “We might want to use that later.”

Glass crunched under Alec’s bare feet as he crossed back to Q. He snatched at Q’s arm as he kicked Q’s legs out from under him, dropping him into a barely controlled fall that Q allowed because he had to. He had to show Alec that he could take what he wanted from Q and it wasn’t going to break him. He knew that if he started anything himself — or _stopped_ anything, for that matter — Alec would never trust himself fully with Q.

Alec dropped to the marble floor with him, pinning Q under his weight. Q braced himself, ready to be turned over and taken, deliciously rough, but Alec hesitated. He stared down at Q, breathing hard, and leaned in to bite at Q’s lips.

Q wrapped his fingers around Alec’s nape and held tight, encouraging his wolf to bite harder. Alec let go of the lube to tangle his fingers in Q’s hair, tugging at Q’s lower lip with his teeth. Q parted his lips further and swept his tongue across Alec’s teeth; the electric current sparking between them made him whine into Alec’s mouth. God, he wanted Alec to fuck him _right now_.

As soon as Alec released the bite, Q gasped out, “Alec —” only to be cut off when Alec kissed him. The shock of power that resonated through Q — through them both — made Alec snarl and thrust down hard. The werewolf’s breath stuttered as his cock slipped down between Q’s legs.

“Over,” Alec growled, though he kept Q trapped under his weight so he could lick at Q’s mouth again.

Q lifted his head and grabbed at Alec’s tongue, trapping it between his teeth. As he sucked it into his mouth, he canted his hips underneath Alec, driving Alec’s cock further between his thighs. He knew he should find some way to turn over — to let Alec start fucking him — but the dual sensations of having Alec’s tongue in his mouth and Alec’s cock between his legs was too overwhelming to give up.

Alec pulled away and whispered, “Your taste.” He arched his back, trapping Q’s cock against his abdomen, and deliberately pressed down.

“Ah, _fuck_ , Alec,” Q ground out. He tilted his head back and exposed his neck, hoping Alec would take it for the invitation that it was. “Alec, please,” slipped out and he blinked in surprise, shocked at the sound of his own begging. The last time Q had begged for _anything_ was right after he’d been turned and wanted something to eat that wasn’t human.

Maybe Alec knew what Q wanted, or maybe he was following his instincts. He ducked his head and closed his teeth around Q’s bared throat with a feral growl, biting hard enough to break through the surface layers of skin, cutting off Q’s ability to breathe.

Q opened his mouth in a silent scream. Pain and pleasure shot through him in equal measure. A distant part of his mind panicked at the idea of Alec losing control and ripping out his throat, but all he could do in that moment was tighten his grip around Alec’s neck and pull him closer in a plea for more.

Alec’s next growl was softer, sending an electric shiver across Q’s skin. He released the bite and licked over Q’s throat in long sweeps, not stopping until he’d covered the imprint his teeth had left. Then he lifted his head and gave Q a feral, hungry smirk. “Turn over,” he all but purred.

“I would if _someone_ actually gave me enough room to do so,” Q answered ruefully.

Alec licked again, quietly laughing over Q’s skin. “It’s your fault. Your taste is distracting.” He flattened his palms on the marble floor and pushed up a bare half inch. “Go on, then.”

Q sighed and shook his head. He placed his hands on Alec’s broad chest and pushed up, giving himself enough room to turn over. He lay back down on the marble floor and waited for Alec to settle on top of him. “This better? Can we finally get to the part where you’re fucking —”

He cut off with a strangled gasp as Alec’s teeth closed on his nape and claws dug painfully into his right hip. A sharp pull had Q scrambling to lift his hips. Alec braced his left arm beside Q’s head and didn’t release the bite until Q was kneeling beneath him, legs spread. Then he let go long enough to say, “Lube,” before he bit back down again.

Q reached out blindly for the lube, smiling when his fingers closed around the bottle a second later. He wasn’t sure when the switch had happened, but he no longer wanted Alec to simply trust himself around Q and bring the three of them together. Now he was desperate for Alec to take him apart. He wanted Alec to go right to the edge, and if he happened to break Q a little in the process, well, that was just fine by him.

Q reached over to shove the lube into Alec’s hand. “I’m not looking for prep, Alec,” he hinted at his wolf.

Alec pushed it back with a warning growl and slashed his claws across Q’s hand, parting the skin like tissue paper. Q hissed at the pain and looked up to see tiny rivulets of blood running down the side of his hand. A crazed laugh escaped his lips as he realised that preparation wouldn’t be happening, even if he’d wanted it — not with Alec’s claws out.

Q ripped the entire cap off the lube in a hasty attempt to open it. He poured some into his hand, and then reached back to wrap his fingers around Alec’s cock. When Alec gasped, Q smirked in satisfaction. He stroked Alec a few times, running his thumb across the head and back down to the base of the shaft.

He finally let go and pushed his arse up against Alec; the length of his cock slid between Q’s cheeks. “Now, Alec.” There was no time for waiting.

Q had only bottomed a few times, both as a mortal and as a vampire. The humans and vampires he’d chosen had all been caring, sensual lovers — ones who’d taken their time to coax and tease and seduce. He’d loved the pleasure they received from doing it, but their _gentleness_ had taxed him to his very last nerve.

In glorious contrast, Alec bit down on Q’s nape again and thrust in, hard and fast, sending one quick surge of pain through Q’s body before the storm of energy transmuted it to incredible pleasure. Alec groaned, low and ragged, and his claws cracked into the marble floor.

Q placed his hands over Alec’s, and slid his fingers in between each claw. He rubbed his thumbs across smooth edges, cooler to the touch than Alec’s skin, hard as bone. He slid his fingers across each one, then curled them across the razor-sharp tips.

Alec’s slow exhale ruffled Q’s hair. “Fucking shit,” he muttered, slipping into Russian. “Q, you feel...”

“Fuck me _now_ , Alec,” Q answered, also in Russian. He thrust back up as best he could, impaling himself the rest of the way on Alec’s cock. “ _Break something_.”

 

~~~

 

If Alec was being an idiot about Q, James would have to shoot him. He tipped his head back to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, thinking a gunshot wouldn’t do much damage — not if he used regular bullets, at any rate. He understood Alec’s caution, but it had been _Alec’s_ idea to fuck Q in the first place.

Hadn’t it? Granted James’ memory was a little fuzzy on that point, but he _thought_ it had been Alec’s idea.

Then again, if he couldn’t remember, Alec probably couldn’t, either.

When he heard the crash of breaking glass, he winced but didn’t immediately go running. Q had made it clear that he didn’t expect ‘indoor behaviour’ from either of the werewolves — a wise decision, given how bloody provocative he smelled. Just thinking about it made James growl in satisfaction. He considered going to interrupt — to join in, if at all possible — but held back. Q was right. He needed this time alone with Alec.

So James reluctantly finished washing, wrinkling his nose as Q’s scent was replaced by soap. He’d have to do something about that.

As he was drying off, he heard another crash, this one accompanied by the sound of splintering wood. What the hell were they doing? Glass, he could understand — bathrooms were full of it — but wood?

James sighed, wondering if they were fucking on the vanity. Marble countertops and hardwood cabinets were sturdy enough for humans, but Q at least should have known better. Alec _definitely_ did, but he also had a feral wolf’s absolute disregard for human possessions.

Thinking it would be better to move them to the already-damaged mattress, James wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the guest bath, just as he heard glass shatter. _A lot_ of glass. They might not be fucking at all, he realised, and broke into a run. He was tempted to shift — he couldn’t take Alec down in human form — but shouting at them was a better option.

Actually it wasn’t. A brawl would be much more satisfying.

He threw open the en suite door and froze, looking from the sparkling shards of glass that carpeted the floor to the shower cubicle. Framed between the remnants of two shattered glass walls, Alec had Q pinned to the marble wall, fucking into him with sharp, powerful thrusts that brought Q up to his toes. His fingers were laced with Q’s, with blood trickling down the wall; it was a shade too dark to be Alec’s.

James drew breath to ask what the _hell_ Alec thought he was doing, when Q’s scent — raw power and lust — hit him hard. He growled, sinking his claws into the doorjamb, and stared, paralysed by the sight.

Q’s head suddenly whipped around, dark eyes landing on James. He stared back, unblinking, his breath coming in short gasps with each of Alec’s thrusts. He tightened his grip on Alec’s hands and winced as he stuttered out, “Come to join us?”

Alec hesitated, pulling away from deeply bruised bite-marks on Q’s nape. He looked back, and despite being in skin rather than fur, James saw in his eyes that only the thinnest edge of humanity held back his wolf.

The towel fell, and James walked slowly across the broken glass. The cuts healed almost at once, too fast to even draw blood, but the sting helped him keep some measure of self-control. He stepped over the broken glass side wall and into the shower cubicle. Alec leaned away from Q just long enough to claim a hot, messy kiss from James before he thrust in again, drawing a sharp cry from Q.

James felt his claws cut free; he couldn’t pull them back. He lifted the back of his hand to Q’s face, tracing over one sharp cheekbone. “Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice ragged.

Q looked at James with unadulterated lust in his eyes. “I want your mouth on me,” he whispered, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Will you do that for me?”

James didn’t hesitate to drop to his knees. He pushed between Q and the wall, using his claws on Alec’s thighs to drive him back, making room. Alec growled but stopped fucking Q long enough for James to settle, his knees to either side of Q’s feet.

When he licked up the length of Q’s cock, Q groaned.

Alec’s growl was as close as he could come to speech, but James had heard him like this before. Holding Q steady with one hand, he licked again and then took Q into his mouth.

Alec’s next thrust was almost too much; James knelt up higher, claws sinking into Alec’s legs to hold him back. Alec snarled and fucked hard into Q again, but this time he seemed conscious of James’ awkward position. The smooth, cool feel of Q’s cock was like nothing James had ever experienced, but Q’s electric energy was already familiar. James licked and swallowed and soon pulled his claws back in, feeling up Alec’s legs and arse with one hand, taking hold of himself with the other. He had vague thoughts that he should wait, but being with both of them, even like this, was too much.

James felt a hand card through his hair; cool blood — Q’s — trickled down the side of James’ face as Q gripped tightly enough to sting his scalp. As James swallowed again, taking Q deeper, Q let out a broken whine and bent forward over James. “Fuck, you two...”

Closing his eyes, James scratched at Alec’s arse, encouraging him to thrust harder. Better prepared this time, James braced back against the wall, timing the movement of his other hand with Alec’s thrusts. Pleasure started to build, far more than he’d got from his own hand since he’d been fifteen and desperate.

Q’s shout broke James’ concentration. He inhaled, but it was choked off as Q pushed deep into his throat. James swallowed and coughed in surprise that broke under the tremors coursing through Q’s body, pulsing against James’ tongue. James closed his eyes and caught Q’s hips, pulling him closer, deeper, until his nose was buried in Q’s hair. Scent surrounded him, crawling over his skin like static electricity, and he distantly heard Alec swearing in a low, vicious growl.

Q slowly pulled out of James’ mouth and slid his hand down to cup James’ chin, tilting his head up. He smiled at James even as he let go to run his hand down Alec’s hip. “Alec,” he started, never taking his eyes of James. “Are you done fucking me already?” He finally turned to face Alec. “I’d rather hoped you weren’t.”

James drew breath, thinking he should probably warn Q, but it was already too late. Caught up in unsatisfied lust, Alec pulled Q away, out of the shower cubicle. More glass went flying — James threw up a hand to protect his eyes, an old human reflex he still hadn’t learned to fully suppress. Alec took Q down to the littered floor, fucking into him hard and fast, wolf in all but fur.

Skin shivering with the desire to shift into his own fur, James followed, dropping back to his knees behind Alec. He ran his hands up Alec’s back, feeling familiar muscles, tasting the combined scent of his two lovers with every breath. Alec kept one hand on Q’s arm, holding him down; with the other, he reached back, dragging his claws over James’ hand.

Need surged through James. He shuffled closer, glass stinging his knees, until he could press up against Alec’s body. Q’s scent was everywhere, embedded in Alec’s skin; James leaned over as far as he could and bit at Alec’s shoulderblade as he inhaled, tasting them both. A growl escaped as his claws scratched over Alec’s hips.

Alec finished with a snarl, arching his back to kneel upright, pushing even deeper into Q’s body. James wrapped his arms around Alec and bit his nape, turning the snarl to a groan. Shuddering, Alec backed out of Q’s body and leaned heavily against James. They ended up collapsed against the broken remains of the vanity cabinet, with Alec still in James’ arms and half in his lap. The feel of Alec’s body and the smell of sex and Alec and Q was too much; James caught Alec’s hand and guided it down to his own cock, needing one of them to _do something_.

With a lazy, sated laugh, Alec moved so he could get a better hold. He licked at James’ throat as his fingers curled with just the right pressure to make sparks light up behind James’ closed eyelids. He stroked hard, and James groaned in frustration and relief as the fire inside him started to build. He let his head fall back against the cracked edge of the marble countertop, and Alec bit harder, right under his jaw.

The sharp sting was all James needed to push him over the edge. He came with a shout that Alec’s bite muffled.

After James’ heartbeat slowed, Q’s soft voice intruded on the silence. “Well, I was hoping for something a bit rougher than that from you two, but I can’t say I minded the view.” James opened his eyes and saw that Q had turned over to watch them, a contented smile on his face.

“Considering what you two did to this room, you should be glad you’ve still got a bloody floor left,” James teased, moving one foot to touch Q’s leg. That was all he could manage.

Laughing quietly, Alec lifted his head from James’ shoulder. “Next time. You’ve still got another shower, don’t you?”

Q stared at Alec in horror. “No, Alec. Just _no_. I told you _not_ to break this shower, and you still broke _two_ of its glass walls. I _like_ showers, wolf-boy, and I refuse to have to wait for the goddamn repairman. Break whatever else you like, but leave my other shower in peace.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Alec said, turning a wicked grin on James. “Didn’t that sound like a challenge?”

“I think so,” James agreed, hiding his laugh, “but _after_ we all have a proper shower. And deal with all the glass.”

Q sat up and crawled over to them, pointedly crunching the glass as he moved. “You’re lucky I own this flat,” he said as he straddled Alec’s lap. “Otherwise, I’d be pushing my way into _your_ home after you got me evicted.”

James nearly suggested that as a better plan for next time, but he couldn’t make that invitation alone. Alec was more territorial than James — not that James was comfortable with outsiders in their house, either.

Was Q an outsider, after tonight?

Alec _seemed_ comfortable with him. He put his arms around Q and pulled him down for a kiss that was self-indulgent and affectionate — not at all hesitant, as if Alec had genuinely accepted Q.

 _Later_ , James decided. He’d corner Alec once they were alone, no longer caught up in the high of such bloody fantastic sex. This needed to be a rational discussion, and at the moment, neither of them was in any condition to decide anything.

“Shower,” James said, running his hand up Q’s leg.

“Agreed,” Q answered with a small nod. He poked Alec in the chest and added, “You keep it standing this time or I’m sending you to the vet to get declawed.”

“Try it, corpse,” Alec growled, giving Q’s hair a tug so he could nip at Q’s throat.

Watching, James hid a smirk and turned instead to get to his feet. Whether Alec knew it or not, he was treating Q as if he were one of them. Maybe they could make this work after all.


	13. Chapter 13

**Monday, 5 August 2013**

Q stared at his laptop and tried not to be irritated. But as each hour passed, keeping that irritation in check became harder to manage.

It had only been three weeks. Three weeks was nothing for an immortal. Hell, he could sit here and stare at his monitors for three weeks straight if management wouldn’t have fits, but that still didn’t curb the irritation.

It had been three weeks, and his wolves were _still_ dark from their recent mission.

He wasn’t worried about them — there were whole filing drawers dedicated to their exploits from when they’d gone dark. But that still didn’t stop him from being just a little pissed off that they’d disappeared and hadn’t bothered to at least tell _him_.

God, he needed a drink.

Q shoved his chair back from his desk and walked over to the kitchenette to get at the bottle of whiskey he’d opened for Danielle. Surprisingly, he’d barely touched it since that day in his office so many months ago. He hadn’t been tempted, until this latest stunt of theirs.

After their violently beautiful night together, both wolves had almost immediately been sent out on a mission. Q had spent five weeks working them through it, only to have them go dark three weeks ago, out in the middle of nowhere. He hadn’t been surprised... until they _stayed_ dark.

They never checked in during instances like this, at least not with MI6. He’d expected that much. But after everything they’d been through, he’d thought they would at least find a way to check in with him. Email, texts, messages from local stations, a bloody owl from Hogwarts... he didn’t care. They didn’t give a fuck if MI6 knew where they were, but Q figured they might want _him_ to know.

They were supposed to trust him. They’d both shown as much back at Q’s flat. So where the fuck were they and why the fuck did Q not know about it?

Q hissed in agitation and poured himself a healthy measure of the whiskey, more than he normally would while still at work. Instead of returning to his desk to try and check on them for the thousandth time, though, he turned towards the soft leather sofa he had along one wall and sprawled out. He threw an arm over his eyes, took a sip of the smoky amber liquid, and tried _not_ to think about missing werewolves and mind-blowing sex.

When the office door opened, Q drew in a breath to shout viciously at whoever had interrupted, only to be hit by a welcome, familiar scent. His wolves were home.

Relief washed over Q, quickly followed by anger. Without lifting his arm from his eyes, he snapped, “Would you mind telling me where the bloody fuck the two of you have been?”

His only answer was a quiet growl — Alec’s, he suspected. Definitely Alec’s, he thought a few seconds later as Alec’s scent grew stronger.

Something cold and damp pushed against his arm. Surprised, Q lowered it, only to be met by a long white snout and golden eyes. The sight of Alec, gorgeous in his fur, pushed aside the worry that Q had refused to admit to feeling. They’d come back to him.

Q cocked an eyebrow at Alec and smiled. “Well, hello there, dog. Is there a reason you’re showing up in my office like this?”

“Are there regs against scaring your technicians?” James asked casually as Alec sat, jaw hanging open in a wolfy grin.

“There are, as a matter of fact.” Q tilted his head back to look at James. As usual, the man was impeccably dressed in a bespoke grey suit. He looked absolutely devastating, and Q felt a small part of his irritation return. Knowing James, he’d dressed like that just to distract Q. And the shit part was, it was actually working.

Q narrowed his eyes at James and valiantly tried to remember that he was mad at them. “Why?” he asked suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“Nothing at all,” James said innocently. Alec barked and nosed at Q’s arm again. “ _Alec_ might have tried to say hello, but something may have been lost in the translation.”

Q snorted. He had serious doubts that Alec had attempted anything close to a ‘hello’. He turned back to eyeball the wolf beside him. “If any of my techs quit because of you, I’m putting you on desk duty. In _my_ branch.”

Hot wolf breath ghosted over Q’s arm as Alec leaned in closer. This time, he shoved his muzzle under Q’s arm, giving a little twitch of his head to lift Q’s hand. At the first touch of fur, Q jerked his hand up, wondering what the hell Alec was doing. James and Alec had both made it clear Alec didn’t like to be touched in wolf form.

Q held his hand back and tried to keep his voice even as he asked, “What is it, Alec? I’m not allowed to touch you like this, and I can’t understand what you want. It would be a lot easier if you just shifted back to human form.”

Somehow, Alec managed to infuse his sigh with a very human sense of dramatic frustration. He rose and got closer, forcing Q to pull his arm all the way back over his own head. Deliberately, Alec licked at Q’s face.

Then he settled his head on Q’s chest, inches from his chin, and whined. Q glanced back at James helplessly before turning back to Alec. “What is it?” he repeated. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“He won’t hurt you,” James said quietly. Alec whined again and touched his nose to Q’s chin. “He chose to put on his fur before coming down here.”

Q looked back at James in surprise. “He _wants_ me to pet him?” When James smiled encouragingly, Q turned back to Alec, eyes wide. What had happened on their mission?

With a shaky breath, Q slowly lowered his hand to rest on top of Alec’s head. He sighed at the feel of thick, luxurious fur between his fingers. Alec let out a breath, and his eyes closed halfway. Without hesitation, Q gently carded his fingers along Alec’s neck and whispered, “Why are you letting me do this?”

“We missed you,” James said simply. He walked to the sofa and nudged at Q’s legs. When Q lifted them, James sat and pulled Q’s legs back down across his lap. Alec twitched his head against Q’s hand insistently, opening his eyes to give Q a warning look.

“What? I wasn’t stopping,” Q said with a laugh. “Don’t be such a baby.” He scratched behind Alec’s ears, tangling his fingers deep in his wolf’s fur. A knot of tension unfurled inside of Q as he realised it had been more than just them going dark and not telling him. He’d missed them too.

With a sigh. he leaned down to briefly rub his face along the side Alec’s head in gratitude before turning back to James. “What happened to you two out there?” he asked quietly.

James squeezed Q’s ankle as though in reassurance. “Nothing out of the ordinary. We’re _very_ good at what we do,” he added, smirking. “You should come with us next time. It could be fun.”

“As long as I don’t have to fly, count me in.” At James’ questioning look Q added, “I don’t like anything that moves faster than I do. Especially not something I don’t have complete control of.”

Alec huffed out another laugh and flicked his tongue out to lick Q’s jaw. Grinning, James offered, “We’ll steal a boat. It’s been years since we’ve stolen a boat.” He pushed up Q’s trouser cuff to get a hand on bare skin above his sock. Casually, he added, “We’re due a bit of holiday leave.”

“Are you now.” Q eyed James over the glass as he took a sip of his whiskey. “Aren’t you always due for holiday leave? Of course, you two and sandy beaches look more like boredom followed by mass chaos from where I’m sitting.”

“It wouldn’t be safe to let us go alone.” James reached out to brush a finger across the back of Q’s hand. The contrast between his living warmth and the cool glass made Q shiver. “We’d need someone to keep us from getting bored. You know how Alec gets when he’s bored.”

“I know how you _both_ get when you’re bored. Alec may have lit the fire that got you banned from Ibiza, but I believe _you_ were the one who incited the initial brawl.”

James laughed and said, “You definitely should come with us, then. Without proper supervision, we could accidentally start a war.”

Q gripped Alec’s fur — not to control, but just to hold Alec in place as he kissed between his ears, breathing in his heady scent. He turned to rest his cheek on Alec’s head. “You’re right. You absolutely do need to be supervised. And I’ve been — how shall I put this — _stressed_ for the last three weeks. I could use a holiday myself.”

James smiled. “Do you need Mallory’s approval for time off, or can you authorise it yourself?”

“I’m the bloody head of Q Branch,” Q huffed out. “If I can authorise the use of explosives that take out entire city blocks, I should be able to authorise my own absence for a week or two.”

“We’re still packed. We can stop at your flat on the way out of London.” James lifted Q’s legs so he could get up off the sofa. “Or we could just kidnap you, if that would be easier.” As if to say he agreed, Alec turned his head, nudging under Q’s jaw, and let out a brief, quiet bark.

After another brief kiss on Alec’s head, Q sat up, gently dislodging his wolf from his chest. He rose, slipped an arm around his other wolf’s waist and leaned in for a kiss — deep and passionate and full of all the emotions he couldn’t put a name to. He let the kiss break naturally before smiling up at James. “Sounds perfect.”

 

~~~

 

Q pulled his car up to the valet at the Savoy, narrowly missing the attendant who ran up to let him out. He took the valet ticket from the attendant and simply said, “Long term parking,” before walking around to the boot to retrieve his bag.

As headlights flashed across the back of his car, Q looked up to see Alec’s black Range Rover pull up behind him. James was driving, of course. Alec still hadn’t bothered to change out of his fur.

Q walked over and leaned against one of the black and white-striped pillars, waiting for James to collect their bags, as well. None of them would allow the staff to take the luggage for them. Q figured it was his wolves’ own paranoia that kept James from handing over their things. In Q’s case, his laptop was government property, never to be out of his sight if it wasn’t secured in a safe.

As James walked up, Q gave him a smirk and said, “I know I said I didn’t want to fly anywhere, but I figured we’d _at least_ leave the city.” He waved a hand vaguely at the glass front doors. “We can come here whenever we like.”

James grinned and offered his arm to Q, which was the best he could manage while carrying two suitcases. “Yes, but not while management” — Q knew James meant Mallory — “thinks we’re going to Spain for ten days. Unless you wanted to waste time travelling?”

“At least we’d be out of sodding London,” Q grumbled as he took James’ arm. Alec padded up to Q’s other side, leaning heavily against Q’s hip. He reached down to scratch lightly between Alec’s ears, delighted at his newfound freedom to touch.

James dropped his voice to a whisper only an immortal could hear, saying, “Would you rather be fucking us or caught in traffic?”

Q turned his head to whisper back in James’ ear. “Is there a reason I can’t do both?”

“Because you _really_ don’t want Alec driving in his fur — not that he hasn’t tried.” Alec barked out a laugh and nudged Q again.

The attendants at the Savoy were too well-trained to show open surprise, but Q could see it in the way the doormen stared as they stood back to allow the trio inside. Even the kinkiest werewolves — the ones who occasionally slummed it at Hydra Code — wouldn’t be caught out in the open with a vampire like this.

Q didn’t bother to hide his smug grin. His wolves weren’t just gorgeous and two of the deadliest creature on the planet — supernatural or otherwise. They were _his_. They trusted him. They _came back_ to him. And if he had any say in the matter, he was never letting them go.

He walked up to the front desk and gave the receptionist his name; he’d called ahead on the drive over. Like the attendants outside, she hesitated for a brief second before turning back to her computer to get his key cards. Alec was just tall enough to see over the desk; he watched her, sniffed the air, and then turned to nudge his head against Q’s body, demanding attention. Though the receptionist didn’t look up, her hands faltered on her keyboard.

Q ignored the girl in front of him and turned to Alec. “You know, just because I’m allowed to touch now doesn’t mean you get it whenever you want,” he tried to scold, but he ended up running his fingers through Alec’s fur anyway. It had only been a couple of hours, but he was already addicted.

“He’s spoiled,” James said, leaning in to brush his lips against Q’s jaw. “Any more encouragement and he’ll end up sleeping like that.”

Apprehension hit Q full force. He let go of his bag and stilled instantly, his fangs dropping down. To hide his sudden irrational fear, he turned to nuzzle against James’s ear and muttered, “I’ve read about your nightmares in your files. If he wakes in wolf form and attacks —”

Alec’s whine nearly drowned out James’ immediate denial. The suitcases hit the floor, and James turned, cupping Q’s face between his hands. Alec leaned against Q, sliding down to lie beside him, trying to look harmless.

“He won’t hurt you,” James whispered too softly for the receptionist to hear. “Neither of us will. I promise you that. No one will _ever_ hurt you.”

Q nodded, though it took him a second to pull his fangs back in. “I believe you,” he answered. If he wanted his wolves to trust him completely, he had to offer the same thing in return. If James promised that neither of them would hurt him, he was going to take the man at his word.

Q closed the distance for a brief but intense kiss. When he glanced down at Alec, he smiled softly. “I would pet you, but you’re a bit out of my reach. Stand back up, please.”

With a dramatic whine, Alec rolled onto his side — nearly taking Q down under his weight — and bit at his trousers. He gave a playful tug, and Q swore the wolf was grinning at him around the fabric.

Refusing to give in, Q shook his head and glared sternly down at Alec. “No, Alec,” he said, going for his commanding voice — or trying to anyway. He was sure it got lost somewhere underneath his laugh. “I am not _crouching down_ in the lobby of the Savoy to give you a... belly rub or something. Now _get up_ , you mangy mutt.”

Alec rose with another sigh and stood up to lean against Q’s hip again. Obligingly, Q scratched the top of his head just as the receptionist silently placed the key cards on the desk. He was about to thank her, but the slight widening of her eyes stopped him from showing any form of courtesy. He couldn’t decide if her lack of professionalism irritated him or just made him feel even more smug.

Choosing to ignore her entirely, Q picked up his bag and turned back to James, who’d retrieved the other bags from where he’d dropped them a moment before. “Penthouse,” he said, offering up one of the cards. “If we’re staying here for the duration, we might as well make it worth our while.”

“We’ll try not to break the floor,” James said, tucking the card into his pocket as he headed for the lifts.

Alec let out a low, amused-sounding growl and nudged at Q’s hand again, though he behaved himself until the lift doors opened. Only when they were all inside, keycard swiped to unlock penthouse access, did Alec try to crowd Q back into the corner of the lift.

Wary of the fact that his laptop was in his bag — he’d already dropped the thing once tonight — Q carefully set the bag down before his back hit the wall. “Is there something I can help you with, Trevelyan?”

Alec’s mouth opened in a wide grin that disappeared as James gave him a shove. “Not in the bloody lift,” James scolded. Ignoring Alec’s huff, James pushed between them and flattened his hands against the wall above Q’s shoulders, grinning. “If he wanted this” — he leaned in and brushed his lips over Q’s — “he should’ve kept his damned trousers on.”

“You’re no fun.” Q pouted against James’ mouth as he trailed his fingers down the man’s chest. “I could’ve just wiped the security footage.”

“I’d end up having to hold off hotel security. Wouldn’t you rather have both of us at the same time?”

Q teasingly canted his hips forward and gave James a dirty little smile. “It’s not as if I’m getting you both right now.”

With a thoughtful growl, James turned to kiss along Q’s jaw. “You’ve had two months to think about what you’d do when we came back,” he said softly. He nipped Q’s earlobe and asked, “Or were you too busy with work?”

“I —” was as far as Q got before the lift pinged their floor. “This is our stop.” He gave James a quick kiss and slid out from underneath his arm. As the lift doors opened, he picked up his bag and then walked out into the foyer of the royal penthouse suite.

Q looked around at the general opulence and smiled. The cost per night was ostentatious, but he didn’t care. It was big enough to give his wolves space to move around, and its privacy couldn’t be matched anywhere in the city. In a place like this, Mallory wouldn’t find them unless they wanted to be found.

James put their suitcases down in the foyer and looked around. “They redecorated. We haven’t been up here since... the eighties?” he guessed.

Amused, Q stepped up beside James. “Really? You two need to get out more, then. I stay here at least once every year.”

“It’s private,” Alec growled right behind Q. He let out a startled hiss at Alec’s sudden presence before strong hands caught his shoulders and turned him around. Q had one instant to look Alec over — tanned skin, no scars, gorgeous muscles — before Alec crowded Q against the wall hard enough to rattle the oil paintings.

Q’s protest about damaging the suite was cut off as Alec kissed him, hard and demanding. All rational thought melted away at _finally_ having his other wolf in his arms again. He dipped his tongue into Alec’s mouth, indulging in the electricity that raced down his spine.

 _Three weeks_ , Q reminded himself. Three weeks of them completely off radar and never once did they bother to contact him. And now Alec was trying to take control of the situation, something Q simply couldn’t allow.

With a light hiss, Q pulled Alec closer, only to flip the wolf around and slam him back into the wall where Q had just been. “God, I missed you,” he breathed out around the kiss as he felt the threatening press of claws tear through his sleeves.

Alec snarled and broke the kiss. “You’re not leaving this room until we’re done with you.”

James pressed against Q’s back and kissed at his nape. “Any objections?”

“Well, I was hoping we’d at least leave the foyer, but I’m game if you are.”

“He’s a wolf. He’d have you on the bloody reception desk if he thought you’d let him get away with it,” James said, laughing quietly in Q’s ear.

Alec grinned and leaned back against the wall to meet Q’s eyes. “We should do that. We _definitely_ should do that,” he all but purred as he brought one hand up. A twitch of his claw tore open the top button of the ruined shirt.

“You’ve already scared my techs today. Let’s _try_ not to scare the harmless receptionist.” Q slid his hand over the claw that rested on the top of his chest and slowly pulled down. “In _this_ room, though” — his gaze became more avaricious with the sound of each popped button — “we can do whatever we want.”

Two approving growls filled the air. James slowly bit down on Q’s nape, as though savouring the feel of skin under his teeth. Q shivered at the touch of James’ tongue, leaning back into the bite.

Q was barely aware of Alec slipping out from in front of him, tugging at Q’s sleeve. With a quiet sound of protest, James backed off enough to let Alec strip off the shirt. Hands braced against the wall, Q closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to enjoy the feel of his wolves touching and kissing newly bared skin.

James took Alec’s place against the wall so he could draw Q into a deep kiss. Q sighed, breath mixing with James’ as lust and contentment warred within him. This was what he wanted — what he _needed_. His addiction to the pair of them would have been frightening if not for the fact that he knew it had started the moment Alec stepped foot into Q Branch with James. Now he was simply too far gone to care.

Then he heard a sound that had become all too familiar — the soft pop of a claw breaking skin — and he thought for a moment that James or Alec had clawed into him, but he felt no pain at all. The irresistible smell of Alec’s blood filled the air a moment later, and Q froze. “Alec? What’s going on?”

“Shh,” Alec breathed into Q’s ear. With one arm, he pulled Q close to his chest, holding him tightly.

James tipped his head enough to look over Q’s shoulder, eyes gone pure gold. His face was set in a neutral, professional mask. He dropped his hands to Q’s hips, thumbs resting lightly against Q’s bare waist.

Alec put his other arm around Q, turned so Q could see his forearm. Blood ran freely from an inch-long slice deep into his flesh.

Everything stopped around Q. The world went dark, sound disappeared. There were no lovers or friends, no glorious hotel suite, nothing. Everything stopped.

 _Everything_ except the slow slide of deep red against warm, tanned flesh. A soft trickle of life from a creature that shouldn’t exist. One that defied both the laws of physics and the very existence of man.

Wolf’s blood.

Alec’s blood.

_Alec._

Q dragged in an impossibly shaky breath. The act only intensified the smell, and he pushed back into Alec, hoping for an escape.

But there was no escape. Both of his wolves held him in place, as if this were some sort of offering. But how could it be? The moment their trust in him solidified, they’d left for two months, disappeared for three weeks. This _couldn’t_ be anything more than a tease.

Bare seconds later, Alec swore under his breath and backed away so abruptly that Q staggered. Cold air hit Q’s back where Alec’s skin had warmed him, burned into him. James looked from Alec to Q, and in one blink, the gold disappeared from his eyes. His hands fell from Q’s waist as he asked, in a controlled, neutral voice, “Would you rather have mine?”

Q stumbled backwards, away from James, and shook his head, the bloodlust finally dissipating. Ignoring James entirely, Q turned to face Alec. “Why?” he asked. “I mean you... you barely trust me. Why are you offering me this?”

Instead of answering, Alec snarled and backed away. He dropped to all fours and into his fur, hackles raised in a ridge from nape to tail, and rushed for the door to the emergency stairwell.

Q didn’t hesitate. He took off towards the stairwell door, jumped cleanly over Alec, and spun around into a dead stop. He was done with this werewolfish bullshit. Alec was _going_ to answer him.

“ _No,_ Alec,” he commanded as he body-blocked Alec’s only option for escape. If his wolf wanted out, he was going to need to tear through Q. “Not this time. Not with me. You will stay, and you _will_ talk to me.”

Alec growled, head low, teeth bared threateningly. James walked to Alec’s side, tugging his clothes back in place. He didn’t touch Alec the way he normally would have done to calm Alec down. “Let us go, Q.”

Q pushed back and braced himself against the fire escape door. For the first time, genuine fear coursed through him at the thought that his wolves might actually try and kill him. “No,” he responded stubbornly, realising that ‘no’ wasn’t just for them. “Not until you tell me what it is I’ve done wrong.”

“You don’t want what we want,” James said bluntly.

Q looked from one to the other. “What do you mean? What _exactly_ do you think it is that I want?”

James’ sharp exhale matched Alec’s growl. “It wasn’t a _casual_ offer. You said you wanted us — both of us — but _we don’t want casual_.”

“And what makes you think I don’t —” Q broke off as the realisation of what James was saying came crashing down on him. He gazed at them both and, for the first time, saw the hurt behind their angry, resigned expressions. “You thought I was rejecting you,” he responded quietly.

“You _did_.”

“I didn’t reject you, I...” Q ran a hand through his hair as he wildly looked around, searching for the words he needed to say. “I didn’t reject you, all right? I’m _scared_ of you. Or me, I’m not sure. I’m scared of hurting you.” He leaned back, letting his head fall against the wooden door. “I’m scared of sinking my teeth into your skin and not being able to let go. Because, frankly, I don’t _want_ to let go. Ever. And that might get you killed one day. And _I don’t know if I can handle that._ ”

James looked down at Alec, who was no longer growling. It was Alec who moved first, though, fur settling flat as he walked towards Q. While Q knew Alec could walk silently, his claws made soft clicking noises against the marble flooring.

Q held still and tracked Alec with his eyes. He had no idea what to expect from his wolf — or maybe _not_ his wolf anymore — but he wasn’t going to move. Regardless of what Alec planned to do to him, he would take it. He was long past anything else.

Alec lifted one blood-soaked paw and scratched at Q, leaving a damp line smudged over Q’s trousers. Q acquiesced and slowly sank down to the floor in front of the wolf. He carefully kept his hands at his sides, assuming he’d lost the right to touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered sadly. “You have no idea how badly I want you. I just...”

Alec pressed his muzzle to Q’s neck, inhaling slowly. His ear twitched, tickling over Q’s cheek. Q huffed out a small, tentative laugh and turned to press his face into Alec’s muzzle. The side of Alec’s tongue swiped against Q’s ear.

James crossed the foyer to kneel down next to Q. “Werewolves rarely get involved with humans, because they can’t understand us.” He reached out to brush his fingers through Q’s hair. “We’re not ferals. We’re not a pack, like what you see on BBC preternatural programmes. But we have” — he huffed in frustration, pausing as though choosing his words — “a bond we share, through our blood.”

Q nodded. “I know, Danielle told me. She said you were... blood-oathed?” He looked at James questioningly.

“Something like that.” James shrugged and moved his hand to touch Q’s face. Alec twisted so he could lean heavily against Q, and James moved his free hand to rest on Alec’s back, fingers lost in his thick fur. “It’s not a human relationship. We’re a part of each other now.” He touched Q’s jaw, turning Q to face him. “That’s what we thought you wanted.”

Q didn’t answer right away. He knew he wanted them; he knew he wanted them to be _his_ wolves. He hadn’t thought of it in the way James described it, but when Q looked at it from their point of view, he knew that was _exactly_ what he wanted. He wanted these wolves to be his, but he also wanted to be theirs.

He looked down at Alec and cautiously lifted his hand to stroke through Alec’s fur. The wolf had inched even closer and now sprawled half on Q’s lap so he could rest his head on Q’s shoulder. Blood still ran freely from the cut in his leg, but Q felt no bloodlust. No consuming hunger. No danger that he might attack his wolves.

Q smiled and looked back up at James. “It is,” he replied simply.

The sigh that escaped James sounded relieved. He sat back against the door, turned just enough so he could face Q, and went back to petting his hair. “I’m sorry we didn’t discuss this. _Someone_ didn’t bother to tell me his plans.”

Alec huffed and buried his cool, wet nose against Q’s neck. Q laughed quietly and wrapped his arm around Alec’s neck, pulling him close. “I’m the one who should say sorry. I was caught off guard, and I reacted badly. It almost cost me everything. I almost lost you.”

“That doesn’t matter now.” James leaned in and brushed his lips against Q’s cheek, taking a deep breath as he did. “Wolves don’t hold grudges. It’s over. We’re still here, together.”

Instead of answering him, Q turned his head and kissed James, slow and deep. The last bit of tension drained away at the feel of James’ lips against his — no secrets, no misunderstandings. He slipped his fingers into James’ hair and held him close, listening to the way his heart sped up. Distantly, he thought of Alec still in his fur and wanted to tell him to change back into human form. But that would mean breaking this kiss, and he wasn’t quite ready to do that.

Then Alec shifted, fur melting away into hot, bare skin. One hand ran up Q’s back; he reached across with the other, and James flinched, breaking the kiss with a startled huff.

“His blood first,” Alec said as the scent hit Q. The blood of his two werewolves should have been overwhelming, but that brief moment of unexpected bloodlust — of being _trapped_ between them — was gone. He was no longer afraid of hurting them.

“Are you _ever_ going to discuss these things?” James demanded, pulling his now-bleeding arm out of Alec’s reach. Alec had cut deep, slicing through James’ suit jacket and shirt. “You’re paying my bloody tailor.”

“What’s to discuss?” Alec challenged. He lifted his hand to Q’s face and ran the tip of one claw over his lips. “You’ve never had werewolf blood. You should try his first, in case you don’t like it.”

Q levelled his gaze at Alec and flicked out his tongue to lick along Alec’s claw. There was no blood, but Alec’s scent still intensified. “I may have never tasted werewolf blood, but your blood — both of yours — is the most intoxicating thing I have ever smelled in my entire life.” He tried to sound neutral, but there was a shaky edge to it that betrayed him. “Do you honestly think I won’t like it?”

Before Alec could answer, James laughed quietly and said, “Humour him, Q. He thinks he’s being clever.”

“More like, if I end up attacking someone, he’d rather it be you,” Q countered as James pulled off his jacket and tossed it aside. Q doubted a tailor would be able to salvage it or the shirt; both were soaked through with blood. “And if I _do_ attack you, I may just also attack him out of principle.”

James smiled and undid his cufflink. He carefully tucked it into his pocket before he started to roll up his sleeve. “Or we could think of a better way to spend the night.”

“What’s wrong with both?” Alec asked. “Since when do you not enjoy a good brawl?”

Q turned to glare at Alec. “Oh, no. Not this time, dog. I paid for your room at that wolf hotel, _and_ I paid for the damage to my flat. The damage I said that _you_ were to pay for. We’re not destroying this place. Do you understand me?”

“Keep fucking around and it won’t matter,” Alec said, turning to look at James. “That cut’s deep.”

The reminder of James’ cut reignited Q’s senses, and the delicious smell of his wolf’s blood washed over him. He looked back at James and saw blood flowing freely down his arm.

Q licked his lips and stared. He slowly lifted his hand, but stopped just short of actually touching James’ arm. “May I?” he asked.

James smiled and touched his fingers to Q’s face. “If you want,” he answered quietly.

Q slid his fingers through the dark red pulsing from James’ arm, creating streaks of colour where the flesh had once been clean. He sat back to rub his fingers together and stare. The colour reminded him of a deep red wine, like a chianti or Bordeaux. He wondered if it would taste like one, if James’ blood would have that same oaky finish that came from a finely-aged wine.

He brought his fingers closer to his face and breathed in, allowing the smell to course through every fibre, every muscle, until he felt his body was flush with James’ scent. Tentatively, slowly — slower than he’d probably ever moved in his life — Q brushed his fingers along his mouth and flicked his tongue out to taste.

For one brief, flashing moment, it was like the best drug and the most intense orgasm rolled into one. He shoved his fingers into his mouth as a lurid, embarrassing moan escaped his lips.

Eyes closed, he sucked his fingers clean, savouring the rich, earthy taste and velvety texture. It was nothing like human blood — or animal blood, for that matter. It was heavier, stronger, _old_. Like it belonged to the beginning of time itself.

When there was nothing left on his hand, Q let his fingers slide from his mouth. His head fell back against the door, and he took a deep breath, cleaner air filling his lungs. He didn’t want to open his eyes and look at either of them until he was sure there was no bloodlust that would cause him to lunge at them.

He wasn’t aware of how much time passed — seconds, minutes — before he finally opened his eyes and turned to smile serenely at James. “That was _glorious_ ,” he hummed.

James lifted his hand to touch Q’s cheek, only to have Alec bat him away, saying, “Learn to share, you bastard.” He cupped Q’s jaw and turned him away from James, searching his expression for a moment. “You’re all right?”

“That was, without a doubt, the most intense experience of my life,” Q said thoughtfully. “But there’s no bloodlust. I’m certain of that. So now” — he stared down at Alec’s still bleeding arm, licking his lips — “I want to taste _you_.”

Alec followed Q’s gaze, watching the blood spill off his arm and onto Q’s lap. He lifted his arm, saying, “Go slowly.”

“Spoilsport,” Q grumbled, but he still gave Alec a reassuring smile. He wanted to pull his fangs in as a sign of trust, but that wasn’t going to happen. He might not have felt any bloodlust, but his body was thrumming on too high of a frequency to do anything about them.

So Q wrapped his fingers gently around Alec’s forearm and leaned in. As he had before, he first gave himself a moment just to smell. Alec’s scent was even earthier than James’, more heady.

When he finally closed the distance to taste, he didn’t hesitate. He licked a line straight up Alec’s arm, across where the cut lay. As his tongue crossed over the open wound, the surge of electricity was so powerful, it took every ounce of willpower Q had not to wrench Alec’s arm and sink his teeth into the flesh.

With his eyes clenched shut, Q’s grip on Alec’s arm tightened. Before he could do anything stupid, though, he slowly pulled back and gazed up at Alec. “Oh, _fuck_... Alec, that was...” were all the words Q could get out before his mind completely failed him.

“He likes me more,” Alec said smugly.

“Oh, sod off,” James answered, laughing.

“He does. Don’t you?” Alec asked, cheating by lifting his arm so the still-bleeding cut brushed Q’s lips again.

Q opened his mouth just enough to flick his tongue out and taste the liquid electricity that pulsed along Alec’s skin. He didn’t bother to lick his lips, though, letting the blood tingle like tiny little sparks.

He leaned back against Bond, who pulled him close, and smiled at Alec. With Bond’s arms around him and Alec’s blood on his lips, he knew there was no way he could answer that question, joking or not. The pair of them had become too important for him to freely pick one over the other.


	14. Chapter 14

**Saturday, 19 October 2013**

Normally, Q didn’t care about his possessions. After countless years and bank accounts with an excess of money that even MI6 didn’t know about, nothing mattered much anymore. Tech, clothes, furniture... It was all replaceable.

So, it really said something about his self-control that he didn’t just throw his sodding phone across the room after he hung up on the raging twat who’d been on the other end of the line.

“Right.” Indignation rolling through him, Q turned to James and Alec, who were sprawled in his living room, watching a movie. Alec, as was his habit, had his fur on, and was draped across James’ lap so James could scratch at his belly. For some reason, James tolerated this sort of behaviour from Alec all the time. “We’re going to Hydra Code tonight.”

“What?” James asked over Alec’s curious whine.

Q gritted his teeth and tried not to glare at them. After all, it wasn’t their fault. “I said we’re going to Hydra Code.” He turned and stalked off towards his bedroom to change before a thought occurred to him. Smiling viciously, he turned back to face them. “And if Alec wants to wear his fur when we go, I would have zero problems with that. Hell, I might even encourage it.”

James let out a grunt as Alec rolled over and shifted into human form to ask, “Are we hunting? It sounds like we’re hunting.”

“More like... we’re putting someone in his place.”

“Let’s not have any misunderstandings,” James said in a far more reasonable tone. Ignoring Alec’s attempts to silence him, James asked, “Is this a kill order or do you want something left when we’re through?”

Q huffed and took a step towards James, locking eyes with his wolf. “I haven’t really decided, to be honest. An old” — he twitched involuntarily — “friend, Liam, called and told me to come out tonight. When I tried to warn him I’d be showing up with a pair of wolves, he said — and I quote — ‘Funny, but there’s no way a skinny little bitch like you could bag a single wolf, let alone two.’”

Alec snarled, rolling off the couch, landing on four paws, fangs bared. James grabbed a double-handful of fur and said, “Let’s actually _have_ a target, rather than just indiscriminately attacking every bloody vampire in the city, Alec.”

“I don’t even know why I associate with him.” Q murmured, ignoring James. “I despise him, and he knows it. We’ve run together off and on for eons, but he’s an insipid twat who’s never satisfied until he’s proven himself better than me.”

“We can fix that.” James eased his grasp on Alec’s fur and looked down at him. “Hydra Code. We’ll need clothes,” he said quietly.

Alec lifted his head, gold eyes meeting James’ blue ones. Then he turned to look at Q.

After a few seconds of silence, James got up off the couch. “Go change,” he told Q. “Then we’ll go home, and you can pick what you want us to wear.”

Q froze, mid-turn. In all their time together, he’d never actually been to James and Alec’s house. For wolves, their home was their most private sanctuary. _No one_ went there. Even repairmen tended to get chased out if they took too long.

In case he’d heard James wrong, Q didn’t meet his wolf’s eye when he asked, “Let’s also not have any misunderstandings here. Are you inviting me back to your home?”

Alec sat, watching Q. Even after all these months, it was difficult to read his expressions as a wolf, but his hackles were down, ears up, mouth closed. James rested a hand on Alec’s neck and nodded. “I _might_ fit into your clothes, but there’s no hope for Alec.”

Alec let out a huff and rolled his eyes. Q gazed at him suspiciously and said, “No, Alec. I was being facetious. You aren’t _actually_ wearing your fur into the club. No good will come of that.” Alec growled, but Q cut him off. “And don’t even pretend I’m wrong about this. You wear your fur, and someone isn’t making it out of there alive.”

James grinned, not even trying to play at being innocent. “If you’re going to look at it that way, technically, we’re both _always_ wearing our fur.”

 

~~~

 

James and Alec lived south of Epping Forest in Walthamstow, an area primarily populated by city werewolves. All the houses were no more than two storeys high, tucked away behind high stone fences and hedges.

When the SUV slowed in front of the wolves’ house, a narrow gate opened. It stayed open long enough for Q to pull in behind them, though it closed as soon as his bumper cleared the threshold.

There were no lights in the front garden and few street lights in the neighbourhood. The darkness was thick enough that even Q had trouble picking out details outside the narrow spread of his car’s headlamps. He parked beside the SUV and got out. James must have reached across to open the passenger door; Alec, still in his fur, jumped down off the seat and greeted Q with an insistent nudge of his muzzle, demanding attention.

Q scratched Alec’s head before leaning down to let the wolf lick his neck and cheek. He’d never admit it to them, but he wanted to go into Hydra smelling as much like his wolves as possible. Neither the wolves nor Q had ever progressed to biting, so there were no visible marks to establish that either belonged to the other. Scent would have to do.

With a gentle tug on the fur at Alec’s nape, Q stood back up and walked towards the front door. He wasn’t surprised when Alec scratched at a panel set into the wall and flipped down a biometric reader. Apparently it was programmed for paw-prints; the door unlocked with a loud _thunk_ of heavy solenoids as James joined them.

Alec trotted inside, and lights turned on a moment later. Now in his skin, Alec said, “There’s not much furniture, but at least it won’t break if you look at it angrily.”

“In other words, come in. Make yourself at home,” James added more politely, resting a hand on the small of Q’s back to bring him inside.

Q stepped across the threshold and his breath caught at the realisation he was in his wolves’ sanctuary. All this time, and he was finally here. It was more than a sign of trust; it was complete and utter acceptance.

Just inside the front door was a sitting room of sorts, with two wide, low couches facing a wall-mounted telly. The couches were covered with thin blankets, probably to protect them against fur. The wood flooring, where it was visible between throw rugs, was scratched and gouged by werewolf claws.

Beyond the sitting room, Q could see an open kitchen with a Japanese-style table at the perfect height for a human sitting on the floor or a standing wolf. A back door was tucked into one corner.

Alec pushed open a side door with no doorknob — easier for wolves to operate, Q supposed. Beyond, Q glimpsed a low bed, much like the one at Hyde Manor, though without all the plants.

With a small shiver of triumph, Q went into the kitchen and said, “I’d ask if there was any alcohol in this place, but since it’s you two” — he gestured at them, stopping in front of the table — “just point me in the right direction, and I’ll pour us something.”

James grinned and went for one of the cupboards, but before he could say anything, Alec yelled, “Or you could let James play bartender and come look in the bloody wardrobe!”

“Well, never mind, then,” Q said with a laugh. Abruptly, he turned and followed Alec's voice back into the bedroom. He found Alec sprawled across the foot of the bed, not even pretending to look in the direction of the open wardrobe doors. Instead of heading to the wardrobe, Q just leaned against the doorjamb. “You know, as much as I love you naked like that, I think at least trousers and a shirt might be in order.”

“You’re really going to insist I wear clothes, aren’t you?” Alec huffed. “Since when are you boring?”

“I’m not boring, and you know it.” Q walked over to the wolves’ shared wardrobe and looked over their collection of bespoke clothes, almost all of them suits. He had to dig through a chest of drawers to find anything so common as T-shirts, and the jeans were hiding in the far back corner.

Not caring what belonged to whom, he chose the tightest jeans he could find and a pair of cashmere V-neck shirts, one charcoal and one blue. He tossed them in Alec’s direction, smiling as the pile landed across the wolf’s broad chest. “What I _am_ , though, is aware that you are both assassins, wolves or not. Taking you in your fur is basically asking you to kill on home soil.” He walked over and sat down next to Alec. “So while I am certainly not boring, I’m also _not stupid_.”

Alec shoved the clothing aside and curved one hand over Q’s thigh, nails scratching against his tight jeans. “You’d be less boring if I weren’t the only one who’s naked.”

“Is that your way of hinting that I should go deal with our target alone while you two shag?” James asked from the doorway.

Alec grinned. “Finally, a good idea from someone who’s _not_ me.”

Q pivoted and swung his legs over Alec’s hips, straddling the wolf. He tried to hide a huff of laughter as he leaned down to lick a stripe up Alec’s chest and nip at his shoulder. He pushed up to gaze at Alec. “I would love to shag you right now, but I’ve been putting up with this piece of shit for longer than I care to admit. I want him dealt with. Tonight.”

Alec growled, tugging up Q’s cobalt blue blazer and black shirt so he could scratch at the skin underneath. “So we _can_ kill him?”

“There’s a fine line between admirable single-minded focus and sociopathic bloodthirst,” James said, walking over to the bed. He held out a heavy ceramic cup, the sort of thing found in coffee shops, usually showcasing latte art. Scotch filled the bottom third of it. “Sorry, but all our dishware has to do double-duty, and wolves are hell on cut crystal tumblers.”

Without a word about the mug, Q took the scotch and drank half of it before responding. “I would prefer you don’t kill him, at least not on home soil. Since _technically_ you’re not allowed to, leaving him alive would mean a lot less paperwork and a lot less explaining to Mallory on my part.”

“It’s none of Mallory’s fucking business,” Alec protested, looking past Q. “Where’s mine?”

“The kitchen,” James answered bluntly as he started to unbutton his shirt.

“Pain in the arse,” Alec muttered, giving Q a nudge. When Q moved off him, he rolled off the bed and dropped onto all fours, shifting into his fur. He gave one last huff and trotted out, nosing open the swinging door.

Q leaned back on the bed, his elbows resting on the clothes Alec had discarded. He turned the mug slowly in his hands as he watched James shrug out of his shirt and toe off his shoes. “You know, if I had my way, I’d never let either of you wear clothes again. At least not in my presence.”

“Don’t say that to Alec, or he’ll burn his bloody wardrobe. Do you have any idea how long it took me to get him to wear clothes in the first place?” James sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over to take off his socks.

Q sat up to run his hand along smooth, taut muscle. Unlike James’ shoulder and thigh, his back was completely free of scars. Werewolf or not, it still amazed Q that after all James had been through, he’d managed to come away with so few marks on his body. He was absolutely beautiful.

Q shifted so he could rest his head on James’ shoulder. “I’d like to say I care, but I don’t. You’re both too bloody perfect to be covering up your bodies the way you do. And that goes for your human _and_ your wolf forms.”

James laughed and turned to kiss Q’s temple. “It took nearly as long for me to get used to going without clothes, except at the beach.” He unbuckled his belt, left it in the loops, and unclasped his waistband.

Before James could stand to remove his trousers, though, Q brushed his hand over the scar on his wolf’s chest. “Why do you have scars and Alec doesn’t? Has no one ever fed on him before?”

James let out a quiet sigh and leaned back against Q. “We don’t scar easily. Fire, traumatic damage, vampire fangs — but not werewolf bites or claws.”

“So, then Alec _hasn’t_ been bitten by a vampire?” Q traced his fingers around the curved, ragged edges on James’ chest.

“He has.” James took hold of Q’s hand and turned to face him. He tipped up his chin and lifted Q’s hand to his throat. “Feel any scars?”

Q shook his head. “No. Should I?”

“When I was still human, Alec bit almost all the way through to my spine.”

Q’s hand stilled over James’ neck, his gut roiling at the thought that Alec had almost killed James. He leaned up to stare at his wolf, not even trying to mask his horrified expression. “How are you even alive?”

James smiled faintly and squeezed Q’s arm reassuringly. “That’s how humans are changed, Q. It’s not neat and pretty. If the human doesn’t go into shock, the change doesn’t take. Not that I wouldn’t have liked a little warning,” he added with a laugh.

Q frowned at James. As both an MI6 executive and the lover of two werewolves, it embarrassed him the things he still didn’t know about wolves sometimes. “That doesn’t answer my question, though.” He huffed out in irritation. “Why doesn’t _Alec_ have any scars?”

“Werewolf bites don’t scar.” James smiled wryly. “He shifts and chews at scars he doesn’t want to keep — like vampire bites.”

Q blinked at James, completely nonplussed. “Wait, I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “Did you just say he _chews off his scars_?”

James’ shrug seemed a bit sheepish. “Yes.” He looked down at the scar on his chest. “He offered to do the same for me. It’s a little too...”

“No, don’t.” The words came out before Q even realised he’d said them. The idea of Alec _chewing_ on James was mildly repulsive, but that wasn’t his reason for wanting James to keep them. The scars were his past; they were part of who he was. They were also a reminder that, despite what his wolf had been through, he’d still chosen to be with Q.

With a light touch over the scar again, Q continued, “Leave them. I actually happen to like them. I don’t think you would be _you_ without them.” It wasn’t quite what he’d been thinking, but he didn’t know if he could be that honest about something so deeply personal.

James laughed and shook his head. “I don’t intend to let Alec anywhere near them. I’m used to them. Even Alec isn’t bothered by them anymore, unless he’s been drinking too much.” He put an arm around Q’s waist, pulling him close. “As for _your_ body... much as I liked seeing you in the waistcoat Alec destroyed, I appreciate you covering up tonight. I’m not certain I could stand watching everyone throw themselves at you.”

“They can throw themselves at me as much as they want.” Q leaned in for a quick kiss, possessive and demanding. “It doesn’t change the fact that you both belong to me, and _I to you._ ”

James gave a thoughtful hum and unzipped his trousers. As he sat up enough to work them over his hips, he asked, “Have you been to Medical? Do vampires even _go_ to Medical?”

“Medical?” Confused, Q sat back and glanced at Bond. “What would I need to go to Medical for?”

“You’ve had our blood.” James pulled off the trousers and set them neatly aside. “When Alec and I shared our blood, it changed us. We” — he hesitated as though choosing his words carefully — “pick up on things. If you’ve read our files, you know Major Boothroyd tested us for psychic ability?”

With an affectionate laugh, Q said, “Yes, I’m aware of that. It was absolutely ludicrous of him, but. well, it was Boothroyd. He experimented on everything at least once. Or three times.” He pulled James over until his wolf was standing between his legs. He ran his free hand up along the back of James’ thigh, resting it on the undercurve of his arse. He resisted the temptation to lean forward and nuzzle at the patch of blond hair framing James’s cock and instead turned to take another drink of his scotch.

“He was right, to an extent.” James picked up the two pairs of jeans and searched inside them looking for the tags. “It’s only feelings, physical position — things that we can use in combat.” James met Q’s eyes. “No one else knows.”

Q thought about how excited Boothroyd must have been when he’d suspected _something_ between the two werewolves — some connection other than the familiarity that came from decades of association. He could understand Boothroyd's curiosity. A part of Q wanted to test just how deep this connection went, how aware the wolves were of one another, how it was affected by distance and other variables. He had always been a scientist, even when he’d been mortal.

But some things were more important than science. “And no one else will.”

James nodded and dropped one of the pairs of jeans. As he started to put on the other pair, he said, “We haven’t had your blood — if you even _have_ any. I don’t know if we’d sense anything from you.” He glanced at Q again. “Have you picked up anything from us?”

Q opened his mouth to say no but closed it before answering. As much as he knew about their blood oath, he hadn’t thought that it might also apply to him.

With a sigh, he leaned back on his elbows again and looked up at James. “I don’t know. I know that I’ve been drawn to you since I met you, but I haven’t stopped to think whether that’s become heightened since I drank from you.” He took another sip of his scotch. “As for blood, I do, but it’s not mine. So chances are that would have no effect on either of you.”

“If you do notice something, it could be useful.” James shrugged and zipped up the flies. “I’m sure you can figure out a cover story for ‘knowing’ if something goes wrong.”

Q smiled back at him. “Of course I can. I’m your Quartermaster, remember? They pay me to be clever.” He looked down at his drink and thought back to when he’d first met Alec. He’d known before then that James had been drawn to him, but it wasn’t until Alec had shown up in the tunnels that he realised how strong that pull was. It had been the entire reason he’d gone after them that first night.

He continued to stare at his drink and quietly confessed, “You both know about me. You know that I’m... different. You aren’t the first wolves to take an active interest in me. That said, it’s never been like this.” He looked back up into piercing blue eyes. “No wolf has _ever_ reacted towards me the way you two have.”

James picked up the two shirts, but instead of putting one on, he sat down next to Q. “We’ve never wanted anything to do with a vampire before,” he admitted. “The wolves who go to places like Hydra Code... That was never _us_.”

“So, then why me? Is it just because I’m different?”

The shirts fell back onto the bed as James slid a hand over Q’s nape. “It’s been _you_ since that day at the bloody National Gallery,” he said before brushing a quick kiss across Q’s lips.

Before James could break away entirely, Q placed his hands along James’ jaw, pulling him in for a searing kiss. It was only when a soft thud and a splash hit his ears that he even noticed he’d dropped the scotch. “You’re _mine_ , you know,” he whispered as the kiss broke. He pushed James’ head back to graze his teeth along his wolf’s throat, nipping at his Adam’s apple. “You’ve been mine since the Gallery, and you will always _be_ mine.”

James shivered and clenched his fingers in Q’s hair, tipping his head up even more to bare his throat. “Q...”

The hiss that escaped Q’s lips was deep and primal. He twisted around to straddle James and pushed him down on the bed. He chased the movement until his mouth found James’ throat again. He licked across the front before scraping his teeth along where his tongue had just been.

When his fangs dropped down, Q sat back, giving just enough space between them and James’ tempting flesh. He gazed down at James, who stared back up, eyes gone completely gold. James closed his eyes and gave a light push to the back of Q’s head. “Go ahead,” he said quietly. “You can bite, if you want.”

Q took in a sharp breath and stilled. It was what he wanted, but he’d resigned himself a while ago that it was probably never going to happen. “Are you sure?” he asked uncertainly.

“We’re sure,” Alec answered from the doorway. Q whipped his head around to stare at Alec; he’d never heard his other wolf come in.

The look on Alec’s face told him everything he needed to know. This wasn’t a game anymore, not for any of them. There was no hesitation or uncertainty in either of their eyes. They wanted this, too.

A small, triumphant smile spread across Q’s face as he turned back to James. He let a hiss escape as he slowly lowered himself back down to drag his teeth along James’ unscarred shoulder, stopping at his throat. Without giving them a chance to change their minds, Q pressed down.

Rough skin tore beneath his fangs, followed by thick muscle and sinew. As the first drops of blood touched his tongue, Q whimpered at the sensation that spiked through him. The intensity of James’ blood hadn’t diminished at all since he’d first tasted it back at the hotel.

He pushed his hands under James’ back to grip his wolf’s shoulders tight, holding him close. He bit down harder to allow the blood to flow more freely. As more of James’ blood ran down Q’s throat, the more aroused he became, until he was brutally, painfully hard. He pushed his cock into James’ hip, seeking the friction he so desperately needed. He knew he shouldn’t — not only was he still clothed; he hadn’t even touched James, other than to bite him. But he couldn’t help himself, and he started thrusting, chasing the pleasure that could never match the taste of his werewolf’s blood.

Distantly, he was aware of hands on him, touching him, fingers tangled in his hair to hold him in place, a hand stroking down his back, fingers gripping his thigh, teasing along the seam of his jeans.

 _Alec_ , he thought, and stifled a cry against James’ skin. Alec was there, touching him, not pulling him away, and James had bared his throat and offered this to Q, and the thought alone — the thought of _his wolves_ — pushed him over the edge.

As the last, shivering pleasure passed through him, Q gently pulled away and rested his head on James’ chest. The hand stroking over his hair continued moving, fingers combing through the strands. “I’ll get something to stop the bleeding,” Alec said, and Q was surprised to hear the edge of a growl that had become familiar; he was aroused. The mattress shifted as Alec moved away.

It was then that Q finally allowed his body to relax. Careful to avoid the blood still seeping from James’ neck, Q sprawled out on top of him, humming contentedly.

“That was...” Q trailed off, words failing him. He smiled into James’ hot skin, boneless and completely sated.

“We fought over it,” James said, petting down Q’s back. “I won.”

“Wait, what?” Q laughed and pushed up on one arm to look at James. “You _fought_ over it? When did this happen? Where was I?”

“A couple of weeks ago,” Alec answered as he walked back over to the bed. “I let him win.”

“Sod off,” James said, rolling his eyes.

“I did. It’s some” — Alec shrugged as he sat down and shoved at both of them — “human thing. As if any of us are _human_.” He snorted disdainfully and pressed a folded flannel to James’ throat. “Hold that.”

Q put a hand over the flannel, holding it in place. He looked over to see Alec rummaging through a first aid kit. “Does this really need something on it? I did try not to tear the skin too much...” He lifted the flannel to have a look, and sure enough, he’d only left two small puncture wounds.

“Unless you _want_ us to kill tonight, I’m not going to Hydra Code with open wounds,” James said tightly.

“You’ll be fine,” Alec said, pulling things out of the kit: ointment, plasters, and an antique two-shot Derringer. “Found the old .25.”

“Oh, that’s pretty,” Q said wistfully, completely unfazed that his wolves had a gun in their first aid kit. If he hadn’t been holding the flannel to James’ neck, he would have grabbed it off the bed to look it over. “People always assume that vampires only love things that are modern, but I really do have an appreciation for the classics.” He smiled mischievously at Alec. “You two being a perfect example.”

“Maybe _him_ ,” Alec said. “‘Classic’ is another word for boring. I’m not boring.”

“And you’re not focusing. Or would you rather I do this myself?” James asked, trying to sit up.

“Down,” Q ordered with a small push. “You moving around won’t help your situation.”

“ _Nobody’s_ helping my situation.”

“Stop complaining. Bloody city wolves,” Alec said, opening the tube of ointment. In violation of anything resembling proper medical procedures, he squeezed some out onto his finger. “Move the flannel.”

Q pulled the flannel back, resisting the urge to smell it. He could still taste James on his lips, and that was enough. He rolled off of James, fitting himself along James’ side, and eyed the ointment suspiciously. “What _is_ that exactly?”

“It’s —” Alec frowned and picked up the tube. “No idea. The writing’s all cracked off.”

Q sighed. “Of course it is. Well, if his neck is still bleeding in twenty minutes, we’re not going anywhere.”

“He’ll —”

“I’ll be fine, Q,” James interrupted. He motioned for Alec to get on with it. “Besides, isn’t this what you wanted?”

“To bite you? Yes. To send you into vampire territory bleeding werewolf blood? I think not.” Q huffed and settled down against James’ shoulder. He wanted to show them off, but not at the expense of their safety. And it was unsafe for them, even if they didn’t see it. It may have been their job to barrel head-first into danger, but it was his job to keep their god-like complexes from getting them both killed.

James got an arm around Q’s body and hugged him close, ignoring Alec’s treatment of the wound. “To mark us.”

Q frowned but didn’t look up at James. “That too,” he admitted. James laughed quietly.

“I’d say you could bite me, but as it is, you’re going without pants,” Alec said bluntly.

“So, then what’s one more orgasm?” Q asked, giving Alec his most charming smile.

Alec shot James a quick, curious glance before asking, “Can you so soon?”

“I’m a vampire, Alec. I have almost _no_ refractory period.”

Alec scooped two plasters out of the pile on the bed, dropped them on James’ chest, and held out his arm to Q, offering his wrist. “I suppose there are some advantages to being dead after all.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Saturday, 19 October 2013**

Q pulled up to the valet and opened his door, not waiting for the attendant. He tossed the keys at the human. “Scratch it and I’ll eat you,” he threw out before walking around to meet his wolves on the other side.

He sized them both up appreciatively. Despite how much he preferred them naked, there was something to be said about clothes that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He ran a hand down James’ arm and smiled. “Just curious. If I decide to fuck you over the bar, you think they’d ask us to leave?”

James laughed. “If this were a werewolf bar, they’d gather around to watch.”

“Point out anything you were doing wrong,” Alec added. “Werewolves are helpful like that.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Q tried to hide a laugh and gripped James’ arm. “Shall we?”

James started towards the club, but Alec moved ahead of them. With his back turned, Q couldn’t see what he did, but the bouncer flinched visibly. James let out a faint sigh that didn’t sound genuinely contrite. “He can’t resist.”

“And I hope he never does,” Q countered in approval. He wanted his wolves just the way they were, and that meant never trying to tame Alec’s feral side. If anything, he hoped to encourage it. Alec already had a hard enough time in his human form.

He walked past the bouncer — a man he didn’t recognise — with barely a glance and stepped inside. It was late, so the place was almost full, the music thrumming. Instantly, he could sense upwards of twenty vampires in the club. The majority seemed to be congregated on the dance floor, but there was a smattering of them around the bar and in the back, private rooms. He didn’t immediately see Liam, but that didn’t mean the vampire wasn’t there.

With his fingers still laced around James’ arm, he brushed a hand down Alec’s back and said, “Let’s head to the bar first. I don’t see him, but I don’t really feel like hunting him down. He’ll eventually come find us.”

“We can hunt him,” Alec offered in a quiet growl, looking around intently.

“I’m sure you can, but there really is no point. I promise, he’ll come find us,” Q repeated. Without waiting for a response, he headed toward the bar. His first instinct was to order blood, but after tasting both James and Alec earlier, he was sure that anything the club served him would taste foul in comparison. He also had no desire to override the memory of their blood with something new.

As he stepped up to the bar, he sensed a profound silence coming from the other end of the bar. He turned to find two vampires — a woman younger than him with what was clearly her pet — staring curiously in his direction. He tipped his head at them with a smile and then turned back to the bartender. The human was ignoring the crowd around the bar, waiting for Q’s order. “Scotch, please,” Q requested. “Three, and make it top shelf.”

Q didn’t need to look over to know the vampires were still watching him. He knew they were staring because of James and Alec. Werewolves were enough of a rarity in this place. The fact that _two_ of them had come in flanking a vampire was unheard of.

Alec turned to look at the two vampires over one shoulder. He growled — a sound Q felt in his bones rather than properly hearing it — but he didn’t move from Q’s side. James covered Q’s hand with his own and leaned close, pressing a kiss to Q’s throat.

He shivered at the touch and smiled. He held his neck still for James’ lips and reached up to gently run his fingers along the bite marks he’d left earlier, exposed for everyone to see. “Mine,” he whispered. It was loud in the club, but he knew James had heard him — as had the other vampires.

James dropped another kiss against Q’s skin before saying, just as softly, “Yours.”

Q hummed his appreciation and stepped away from James to stand in front of Alec. He pressed his hand over the new scar he’d left on Alec’s wrist and looked up, noting the absolute lack of green in Alec’s eyes. James was going along with Q, but Alec was perfectly willing to tear into the vampires lurking behind them.

“Play nice,” Q commanded with a smile that he knew conveyed the exact opposite.

Alec let out one more growl, sharp and short, before he turned his back on the two vampires. The bartender had three glasses lined up, though instead of saying anything, he was staring at the scene before him as if waiting for bloodshed. Alec pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and used his claws to pinch out a credit card, which he dropped on the bar.

Then he smiled at Q and moved close, turning his body to hide the motion of his other hand. Q felt a touch on his hip — something hard and cool. “For you, if you want it,” Alec said, feeling around until he slipped whatever-it-was into the tight front pocket of Q’s jeans. “Maybe you can use it tonight.”

Q ran his fingers along the front of his jeans, feeling the curve of the small .25 Alec had found in the first aid kit. He smiled at Alec, having never taken his eyes off his wolf. “I appreciate the sentiment, Alec. I doubt it’ll do much damage in a place like this, but I’m sure it’ll be enough to make my point.”

Alec moved his hand from Q’s pocket to his abdomen, fingers dipping into the waistband of his jeans, and ducked his head to run his tongue over Q’s lips. Q flicked his eyes in the direction of the other two vampires and smiled to himself at the look of pure lust on the woman’s face.

Feeling more than a little smug, Q laced his fingers in Alec’s hair and tightened his grip. He opened his mouth to allow Alec’s tongue to slide along his own, tasting each other. Electricity raced through him again, making him shudder. The sensation wasn’t just deliciously welcome; it was familiar. It was where he belonged.

It also reminded him that even though he definitely wanted to show off his wolves, two random vampires at the bar were not his intended target, regardless of the satisfaction he felt from the woman’s open want and obvious jealousy.

As the kiss broke off, Q smiled at Alec. “I think I want that drink now.” He reached over and picked up the two glasses still left on the bar — James had already retrieved his, along with Alec’s credit card — and handed one to Alec. After giving the two vampires a brief smirk, he led his wolves out into the club.

He recognised some of the vampires who were here tonight, though none were his rival. Others he could pick out by the little tells humans would never catch — the way they moved, forgot to breathe, forgot to blink. He knew there were more, hidden from his sight, and he sipped his drink to cover how intently he concentrated on picking out individual voices from the hum of conversation and louder music.

But by the time he reached the far side of the dance floor, he hadn’t caught sight of Liam at all. Not a glimpse; not even a familiar, grating whisper. Would he even show up at all? _Of course he would_ , Q thought in disgust. Liam had never passed up the opportunity to make Q look like a fool. He still crowed over the time Q had miscalculated the power requirements for an early computer and nearly got himself shredded by exploding vacuum tubes — and that had been back in the early fifties.

Finally deciding that he wouldn’t let the evening be a complete waste, Q finished his scotch and set the empty glass down on a nearby table. “Let’s head to one of the back rooms.” At least there they’d have some privacy, and Q could enjoy their company without having to deal with the crowd of lustful humans and vampires who couldn’t stop staring at his wolves.

James ran his hand up Q’s arm and gave him a quick frown, though he didn’t actually say anything. Q knew he was fully aware of how sensitive vampiric hearing could be, even in this sort of noisy crowd. He smiled, appreciating the discretion, and took hold of James’ arm with a reassuring squeeze.

They didn’t make it more than a few metres before Q heard the voice he’d been expecting — the voice he was no longer particularly _interested_ in hearing. “Well, well. Looks like I was wrong,” Liam said in a sharp tone, laden with sarcasm and scorn.

Q almost stopped to look around, but he knew Liam was nowhere nearby. Determined not to give Liam the satisfaction of catching him by surprise, Q kept walking.

“Or, was I?” Liam continued. “Where’d you get them? Are werewolves hiring themselves out as whores, or did you go to the pound?”

The words slid into Q like a knife, even though he knew they weren’t true. Alec and James had chosen him — not a human, not another wolf, not another vampire, but _him_. But of course that twat, Liam, wouldn’t believe it, even when the proof was right in front of him. Of course his mind would immediately go to other ways Q might have got himself two werewolves for the night. Liam wouldn’t believe they actually _wanted_ him.

If Q had been a wolf, he would’ve shifted on the spot. As it was, he struggled to keep from letting his fangs drop, though he knew James could feel the tension in his body. “He’s here,” Q told them, trying to sound disdainfully bored, though it came out flat. He didn’t bother addressing Liam at all. He wasn’t going to engage the bastard in whispers across a crowded nightclub.

Then Liam appeared, crossing the dance floor with vampiric speed and grace to come to a stop right in front of Q and his wolves. The man was tall — taller than Alec, even — with short, jet-black hair and eyes so light green, they were almost yellow. Before Q could draw breath to speak, Alec reacted. The glass fell from his hand, now clawed, and he shoved protectively in front of Q with a dangerous, inhuman growl.

Q reached out and gripped Alec’s arm. This wasn’t the time to fight. Not yet, anyway. “What’s the matter, Liam? Jealous? As I recall, your last encounter with a werewolf, you very nearly lost your head.”

Liam’s lip twitched up into a sneer too subtle for a human to notice. “Hired bodyguards are hardly tame pets, Vincent.”

Q hid a cringe at Liam’s use of one of his old given names. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really; it wasn’t as though Liam had ever known him as Q. Not that the petty arsehole would have actually called him that.

Q slid out from behind Alec, but didn’t step in front. He knew Alec would never allow it. His two wolves might not have been hired, but Q held no illusions about how protective they were of him. The thought that they _chose_ those roles for themselves filled him with a vicious sort of satisfaction.

“And why on earth would you think I’d want them tamed? The sex wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if they were,” Q shot back.

“Who made you?” James asked, inching ahead of Q, eyes fixed on Liam. When Liam frowned, James added, “So we know where to send the sympathy card.”

“Or the pieces,” Alec growled, and there was nothing human at all in his voice.

“You didn’t want to keep any trophies, did you, love?” James asked more calmly, glancing at Q.

“Oh, absolutely not. If we brought any part of _that_ ” — he waved a hand at Liam, voice filled with disdain — “back to the flat with us, it would take _weeks_ to get the smell out.”

“You pretentious little _shit_ —” was as far as Liam got. Alec snarled and wrenched free of Q’s grasp. Shreds of torn clothing went flying as he lunged at Liam, hackles raised, ears flat, lips curled back to bare long fangs.

Caught wrong-footed, Liam stumbled back, wrenching himself to the side an instant before the werewolf hit. Screams filled the nightclub as everyone around them rushed for the exits, humans shoving one another aside to escape.

James turned away from the brawl — away from the wolf who’d fought at his side for more than half a century — and caught Q around the waist. “Out!” he growled, shoving Q towards the nearest exit, a fire door off to one side of the dance floor, fully prepared to leave Alec to face Liam and any remaining vampires alone.

Q staggered but didn’t give way to James. Alec couldn’t kill Liam — not here, in front of hundreds of witnesses. Even the attack would be almost impossible to cover up. If Liam decided to prosecute in the human courts, Q would lose Alec, and probably James, too.

 _“Alec! Stand down!”_ he shouted, breaking free of James and moving swiftly out of reach.

But it was too late. Alec was already snapping down at Liam’s bared throat, a classic werewolf attack Q had seen too many times in CCTV footage of the agents’ missions. Even if Liam got up an arm to block, Q knew it wouldn’t help; he’d lose the arm along with his throat, bitten cleanly through, all the way to his spine. Q could see it — the way Liam’s body would collapse, sagging in on itself as the blood he’d drank seeped out from his dead tissues, leaving only a desiccated corpse.

Impossibly, Alec’s jaws closed on empty air as he jerked his head away. Braced against the bite, he lost his balance and collapsed, paws lashing out hard enough to throw Liam — unharmed — aside.

Liam was an arse, but he wasn’t stupid; he bolted, throwing all of his vampiric speed into escaping, shoving humans out of the way.

Alec’s hackles were still bristling, ears still flat, but he made no move to go after Liam. Instead, he scrambled up to his paws and crept for Q, lowering his body until he was flat on the floor, at Q’s feet.

Q stared down at the wolf, his expression neutral. “You can’t kill him, Alec,” he demanded. “I know you want to. Hell, even _I_ want you to. But you can’t. Not here, and _not_ after your recent exploits.” He crouched down to run his hand behind Alec’s ears. He sighed at the feel of Alec’s fur against his skin and said, much more softly, “If you kill him here, they’ll take you. Make you disappear. I’ll never see you again.”

Alec let out a dramatic sigh and dropped his muzzle to the floor. James laughed quietly and put a hand on Q’s shoulder, still alertly scanning the club as it quickly emptied. “I think the party’s over for the night. And Alec’s lost his bloody pants again. Sorry if this wasn’t what you had planned.”

With a final light scratch, Q stood back up to face James. “It was a bit more... intense than I was expecting, but I think the point has been made. I doubt Liam will shoot his mouth off the next time I see him. If I ever see him again.”

“We never had dinner. Well, Alec and I didn’t,” James said, wrapping his arms around Q’s body. “There’s a steakhouse not far from here that Alec likes.”

Alec nudged at Q’s calf, tail thumping once against the floor.

A knot of tension loosened deep inside Q’s chest, tension he hadn’t even known he was there. They were _his_ — not just his friends or his agents, not just lovers who’d allowed him to bite them, but really _his_. Though they were outnumbered by the vampires who’d been in the club, Alec had rushed to defend Q’s honour. James’ first thought had been Q’s safety. And when Q had stood his ground and ordered Alec to back down, he’d _listened_.

They respected him.

The stories of supernatural, eternal love were all human constructs. Vampires didn’t turn humans to have companions until the end of time. Werewolves didn’t bite humans to have lifelong mates. Love was a fleeting, human thing, something that had no place in the supernatural world.

But sometimes, supernaturals _did_ find partners for more than a few decades or even centuries. And when that happened, the emotional connection was so much deeper than love that there were no words for it.

At that moment, Q knew that he would never want another partner for himself, ever again. He was finished with dabbling in relationships and one-night stands. He was done with the game he and the wolves had been playing — and so were they.

There was no longer a need to chase them. They were finally, completely his, just as much as he was theirs.

“Sounds perfect.” Q leaned into James for a quick kiss. “I do have one request, though.”

“What’s that?”

“When we get home, will you shift for me?”

James glanced down, watching Alec stand back up. The wolf brushed against them as he went to search the remains of his clothing, nosing through the scraps. “I’m not a born wolf, Q. It’s not natural for me — not like it is for him.”

Q gave James a small, reassuring smile. Seeing James shift was the one thing he’d yet to experience, and if he could have it all, then he wanted it _all_. “I know it’s not, and I don’t care. I’m not asking for me. I’m asking because this is us, and you shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable about any part of yourself. Not around me.”

James sighed quietly and nodded. “All right. If that’s what you want.”

Q reached up and brushed his fingers along James’ jaw. “It’s what I want,” he answered, calm and even. “I know you don’t prefer your wolf form, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you hide from me every time you feel the need to shift.”

“To be fair, the only one who’s seen is Alec,” James admitted, turning to kiss Q’s fingers.

Before Q could answer, he felt something hard press against his hip. He looked down to see Alec, holding his wallet in his jaws. Q retrieved the wallet and shoved it into his back pocket, making his jeans feel impossibly tighter. “You know, Alec, if you keep destroying your clothes like this, I’m going to start carrying around a collar for you to wear with a little pouch for all of your things. That or one of those mule packs.” He turned to grin at James. “Wouldn’t he look lovely in one of those?”

Ignoring Alec’s brief, insincere growl, James started walking towards the front exit, keeping one arm around Q’s waist. “I’ve been threatening him with saddlebags for years.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Do we need to clean up the evidence, or does management prefer not to involve law enforcement?”

Q waved dismissively at the mess. “No one died, so they won’t call it in. That said, the owner’s a friend of mine. I’ll see to it that whatever we broke gets replaced.”

Only a few patrons were left, standing in the shadows or in small knots as if seeking safety in numbers. They stared at Q and his wolves, backing well away from their path towards the doors. As they whispered, Q caught soft words — ‘ _impossible’_ , ‘ _never seen anything like that before’_ , _‘what are werewolves even doing here?’_

But under the fear, he could hear the fascination in the humans’ voices and the envy in the vampires’. Already, he knew social media would be on fire with news of what had happened. Messages would be flying across the vampires’ networks, confirming to all of London what Q already knew: These werewolves were his.


	16. Epilogue

**Wednesday, 10 September 2014**

Almost every piece of clothing Alec owned ended up at the dry cleaner’s. And even though he and James used a werewolf-friendly service, the chemicals still stung his sensitive nose. But James, damn him, had instilled in Alec a deep sense of contempt for casual dress. Alec was a born wolf, but he wasn’t some feral beast content to eat rats and sleep in a filthy, muddy den.

Which was why, he supposed, he spent so damned much time lounging about the house in his fur.

That lifestyle worked well enough back home — as in, at _his_ home, with furniture built wide and solid, meant for humans or wolves. Q’s sleek, ultra-modern flat was another story altogether.

He still wasn’t entirely certain Q had forgiven him for the incident with the recliner, which was just unfair. How the bloody hell was Alec to know that some expensive Italian leather chair couldn’t support the weight of a full-grown werewolf?

Worse, Q was late coming home, and James was away at a three-day conference, leaving Alec to lounge around Q’s flat, alone. He’d turned on the telly before he’d put on his fur, and he’d spent two mediocre hours eating pizza out of the box and watching American programmes on a satellite connection that probably wasn’t strictly legal. But then he’d tried to change the channel, and he’d underestimated his bite strength; he’d spent the next five minutes trying to get the taste of plastic shards and electronic bits out of his mouth.

In a word, he was _bored_.

And no force on earth could compel him to watch _Strictly Come Dancing_ , even if it was Werewolf Week. Hybrid werewolves weren’t meant to wear glittery suits and frilly ball gowns. Bloody human producers, thinking they were so damned clever...

He finally went into the bedroom, debating a bath. He’d have to switch out of his fur to fill the tub, but the change was effortless for him. Still, he was lazy, and he’d just end up getting another lecture for clogging the drains.

There was a thought. He could get Q to give him a proper brushing.

Alec nosed through the drawers and cupboards in the bathroom, spilling the contents and sneezing. Did Q _really_ need that much hair product? What the hell was wrong with his hair left natural, soft and curly? Damned vampires and their vanity. And despite all the rubbish Alec found, Q didn’t even have a proper brush for a born wolf’s thick, warm undercoat.

Finally, Alec left, crushing a reeking tube of _something_ under one paw. It squished unpleasantly between his toes, and he did a three-legged hop to get to the bedroom carpet so he could wipe off his paw. After five unpleasant minutes, he had carpet burn between his toes, his fur was standing up from static, and he’d gone from bored to _fatally_ bored.

Why wasn’t Q home already? If he didn’t hurry, he might come home to find a dead werewolf in his flat.

Finally, Alec decided he’d probably have to leave. Maybe he’d go to MI6 and track Q down, even though that meant he should probably put on clothes. It was raining out, and he didn’t feel like getting his fur wet without the pleasure of a bath. Preferably one with Q.

Nearly dead from the boredom, Alec dragged his paws into the wardrobe —

And froze as the sweet, tingling sense of _Q_ washed over him. Alec opened his mouth to taste the air, and his eyes closed. It wasn’t — Well, he couldn’t think _live_ , because Q wasn’t properly alive. Rather, the scent wasn’t _current_. It was a bit old, tinged with undertones of wool and cotton, leather and silk, and the artificial flavours of the PVC and metallic fibres Q preferred for when they went to nightclubs.

 _Laundry_ , Alec thought, ears perking as he opened his eyes.

And there it was, tucked neatly into the back corner of the wardrobe, an entire basket of Q’s clothes. Because Q was a vampire, none of the clothes were stale with sweat or other unpleasant odours. It was just pure Q, like the cardigan that Alec had stolen all those months ago.

His jaw dropped in a fierce grin.

In his fur, Alec lacked thumbs, but it was easy enough for him to take hold of the fancy laundry basket with his jaws instead. Wicker shattered under his fangs, not that he cared. He dragged the laundry basket out of the corner and into the middle of the wardrobe, where a nudge with one paw tipped it over. Clothes spilled out, filling Alec’s senses with _Q_.

He dove right into the pile, twisting over onto his back. Static crackled through his fur, tingling over his skin in a weak reminder of the electric power of Q’s touch, and he let out a deep, contented sigh. All the boredom and tension and irritation left in a rush. He allowed his eyes to close, and he stuck his muzzle underneath a soft silk shirt.

 _Brilliant_ , he thought, and snuggled deeper into the clothes, allowing the scent to ease him into sleep.

~~~

As Q pressed his hand against the biometric scanner, he wondered if this was what exhaustion was like for humans. It had been so long since he’d been mortal, he had no basis for recognition. But if this was what exhaustion felt like — especially after the day he’d had — then he supposed he _was_ exhausted.

Or maybe he was just fed up with incompetency at the office. Yes, that was most likely it.

He pushed the door open with an irritated huff and immediately dropped his bag on the floor. James was gone, but Alec was still home. At the moment he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in his wolf’s fur, eat some horrible human-food, and watch old movies on the sofa. He was only mildly surprised that nowhere did sex factor into that scenario. Maybe it was exhaustion after all.

“Alec?” Q called as he walked into the sitting room area. There was no wolf-sized lump on his sofa, but something still caught his eye. Curious, he walked over, pushed a mostly-eaten box of pizza out of the way, and crouched down in front of the sofa. Little bits of black plastic littered the ground, along with multi-coloured pieces of rubber and fractured computer components.

Confused, he looked around for the source of the damage, only to find a plastic lump half-shoved under the back cushion of the sofa. He reached over to pull out whatever-the-fuck it was, only to grimace at the sight of his once pristine media centre remote control.

Q glanced around again. Pizza that was clearly eaten out of the box, a destroyed remote, fur _everywhere._..

Exasperated, Q stood up and tossed the now-useless chunk of tech aside, sending more bits of plastic and circuitry flying as it bounced across the floor. He stalked toward his bedroom in search of the wolf and tried not to let his irritation take over. He knew Alec felt more comfortable in wolf form, but after a hundred years, he should have at least learned how to be gentle with delicate equipment. Especially when said equipment wasn’t _his_.

A quick glance around his bedroom turned up no sign of Alec anywhere, and Q barely hesitated before heading to the bathroom. He made it all of three steps before his shoe landed on something that was equal parts slick and sticky.

Q stepped back out of the offending goo and looked down to find mottled grey streaks running through his carpet.

_What the fuck?_

He leaned over to run a finger through the substance, instantly recognising it as one of the hair products he used for going out at night.

He let out a low hiss as the irritation finally won out. There would be no snuggling for that damn wolf tonight.

As Q shoved his way into his bathroom, he froze mid-step, almost tripping over the disarray of products and toiletries strewn across the tiled floor.

He almost shouted Alec’s name but held back. Dogs were known to hide when they knew they’d done something wrong. The idea of sneaking up on a guilty Alec was simply too appealing to pass up.

He was just about to turn around to go check the guest room when a soft rustle caught his ear. He slowly walked out of the bathroom, following what sounded like fur against fabric coming from his wardrobe. The door was half closed, the light inside turned off. Alec was _definitely_ hiding.

Q sneered as he pressed his palm against the door, pushing it open. Alec wouldn’t like the fact that he was cornered, but it was his own damn fault for backing himself into the wardrobe. He should have left the flat. Or possibly the country. Jamaica was always nice this time of year.

Even as a vampire, Q’s poor eyesight meant it still took him a good second or two for his eyes to adjust to the total darkness. He half expected to find Alec sitting in the middle of the wardrobe waiting for him, tail wagging, wearing his customary wolfy grin. He did so pride himself on the messes he made.

What Q found instead pulled him up short. At first, all he saw was a mountain of his laundry piled high in middle of the floor. Blue jeans, vests, cardigans, trousers... His clothes were everywhere. But a soft swish of white drew his eye to a long piece of fur sticking out of one end. It was then that he noticed his clothes were moving.

A quiet snuffle filled the small wardrobe, and Q realised that Alec had fallen asleep buried in Q’s clothes. He smiled in spite of himself as he watched the rise and fall of Alec’s chest under his favorite black jumper.

“Alec?” Q whispered, unable to hide the affection in his voice. “Alec, wake up.”

Once, the wolf would’ve awakened at the first hint of someone approaching — at the sound of the door opening, in fact. Now, though, the only response Q got was another snuffled exhale that stirred the silk shirt draped over Alec’s long muzzle. It was a sign of trust that the werewolf allowed anyone so close, especially a vampire.

He looked over a clothes-covered Alec, his eyes lingering on the white foreleg sticking out. He could just make out the scar where he’d bitten Alec almost a year ago — when Alec had truly given himself to Q. Even surrounded by Alec’s long, thick coat, the bare patch of scar tissue was plain to see. He never made any effort to hide it, either in his fur or skin.

Q walked over and knelt down, gently lifting the jumper from Alec’s chest. He slowly carded his fingers through Alec’s fur, running his hand softly down the side of Alec’s massive frame. “Alec. It’s time to get up,” he whispered again.

With a brief snort, Alec shook his head. The silk shirt caught on his ears and fangs. Huffing, he spat out the material, gave another toss of his head, and blinked gold eyes at Q.

Then, instead of scrambling to all fours, he opened his mouth, tongue lolling out to one side in that wolfy grin, and twisted a few inches over to bump his muzzle against Q’s shin.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to keep petting you?” Q asked dryly. Obligingly, he reached over and lightly scratched Alec’s belly. He gave Alec an easy smile. “Is that better, Your Majesty?”

The werewolf licked at Q’s hand, then nipped gently at his fingers. When Q found just the right spot, Alec’s back paw twitched, flinging a pair of jeans at the wall. Alec let out a huff of warm breath over Q’s hand —

And then Q found himself scratching bare skin, not fur. “You’re late,” the werewolf accused lazily.

“Well, that’s the world’s terrorists for you,” Q said as he rested his arms on his knees. “No respect for normal business hours.”

Alec rolled onto his side and worked his fingers under the cuff of Q’s trousers. “I think I ate the remote for the telly. You wanted a new one, didn’t you? That one was old.”

Q sighed and narrowed his eyes at his wolf. “Yes, you did, actually. You also got fur everywhere, left food in the middle of the living room, smeared hair product across my carpet, and trashed half my bathroom. All before you apparently fell asleep in my clothes.” He reached down to lightly take hold of Alec’s scarred wrist and smiled. “We were quite busy tonight, weren’t we?”

In answer, Alec growled quietly, rolled onto his back, and pulled, dragging Q down on top of him. “Not yet, we weren’t. Care to do something about that?”

Q hummed and pushed his hands underneath Alec’s shoulders. He leaned down to press a light kiss along Alec’s jaw, letting the day-old stubble tickle his chin. “Sounds brilliant. You can help make up for the absolute shit day I had.”

Alec inhaled deeply as he wrapped his arms around Q’s body, holding him close. “From now on, you should stay here. I won’t have to resort to your bloody laundry to smell you.”

“Oh, I don’t mind the laundry,” Q responded dismissively. “You were actually quite adorable all snuggled up the way you were. But a word of advice? Maybe next time just head directly here instead of trampling through the rest of the flat first.”

“I hate your flat,” Alec complained, tugging Q’s shirt up out of his trousers. “If we were at the house, we’d have decent furniture. We should just... stay there.”

Q studied the green eyes staring back at him, recognizing the casual, off-handed remark for what it was. If it had been James, he would have come right out and asked Q to move in. Alec wasn’t quite that elegant, though. Communication wasn’t exactly his strong point.

With a quick, gentle kiss, Q gave Alec a half-smile and said, “As long you make room for my clothes and let me convert one of your spare bedrooms into an office, I think we can work something out.”

“Or you could just stop wearing clothes at home. That would help, wouldn’t it?”

“At home, yes,” Q answered with a snicker. “But I need something to wear when I _leave_ the house. I think MI6 might frown upon its Quartermaster getting arrested for indecent exposure.”

Alec growled again, gold flickering in the depths of his green eyes. “Or we could start with that. As an MI6 agent, I’m authorised to arrest anyone I damned well feel like, aren’t I?”

“As long as you’re not on British soil, absolutely.”

Alec huffed. “Since when are you so boring?” he complained. Then his grin flashed to life, and he slyly asked, “Or are you inviting me on holiday? Somewhere with snow and a fireplace?”

Q sighed at Alec’s obvious deflection of his own request. Hoping to get Alec back on track, Q leaned over and briefly bit his wolf’s shoulder, careful not to break the skin. “Focus, Alec,” he murmured, and turned to bite Alec’s other shoulder. “You still haven’t answered me, so let me rephrase.” He ducked down to bite the underside of Alec’s jaw. “Are you willing to make room for me?”

Alec growled, scratching under Q’s shirt. “You can have my half of the wardrobe. We can burn my clothes.” He laughed wickedly. “We’ll tell James it was your idea.”

“Alec, you live in a bloody _house_. There’s plenty of room for my things. But I’m not...” Q trailed off at Alec’s wary expression and the meaning behind what his wolf had been saying finally sunk in. He didn’t just belong to his wolves; he was one of them. And it was time for him to come home.

He pulled his hands out from underneath Alec’s back so he could rest them along Alec’s jaw. He brushed his lips against Alec’s mouth, warm and so very much alive. “I’m going to need to sell my flat,” he answered instead.

“Or we could burn it, too. Chase away the corpses you have as neighbours.”

“Why not?” Q responded with a shrug, ignoring Alec’s feral grin. “It’s not like they’ll be my neighbours for long.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find us both on tumblr at [kryptaria](http://www.kryptaria.tumblr.com/) and [stephrc79](http://www.stephrc79.tumblr.com/). Come say hi!


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